When it was over, the woman's husband lay with the four soldiers, dead on the floor.

She led us to a house in which her husband, a Polish officer, lay wounded.

Thus only a woman's husband ever lays eyes upon her face.

Her husband lay sick above their heads, which made his love seem all the more hopeless.

Her husband, Art, laid a $100 bill on the counter and got back change.

Her husband lay on the floor, his face and body contorted.

She stepped past up to the platform where her husband lay.

My beloved daughter and her husband lay slain in their own blood.

After all, how had Saturn protected me while my husband was laying his plans?

My husband has never laid a hand on me in anger.