Keff held the little cylinder up to her, and she smiled.

Only her hand held it from rolling up into a little cylinder.

He had the little cylinder clutched in his fist.

He heaved desperately as she brought forward the little cylinder and broke it under his nose.

Then he began to roll the poster itself into a tight little cylinder.

The clasp it had now screwed together, making a little cylinder.

Somehow, light was stored in the little cylinders, and they held only so much.

He thumbed the little cylinder on me lock, pushing it in and out.

He rolled the little cylinder about with the tip of one ink-stained finger.

I held the little cylinder down by my thigh.