The diner sitting next to me looked disappointed.

He joked that the other diners were looking at him like a wife-batterer.

The other diners looked as ordinary as he did.

The diner looked like a barn, long and low, made out of red boards.

From the outside, the diner looked like little more than a shack beside the gas pumps.

But it's precisely the kind of restaurant many diners are looking for.

The diners looked at one another in embarrassment, three kinds of it.

The diners on the top tables looked round, and then turned back in disinterest.

I looked in through the window, and those diners just didn't look right.

The diners looked toward the house with the cupola, some of them standing up and pointing.