There was a clock in the room, which the stranger often turned to look at.

The stranger moved aside and turned his head away as he allowed him to pass.

The stranger turned toward him, but did not move to follow.

The stranger turned away from the stage and headed for the exit.

Then when the latter had disappeared down the dark street, the stranger once more turned to me.

The huge stranger inside the truck turned cold and deadly eyes upon him.

The stranger turned his gaze from the mountains and looked at the young woman in front of him.

Instead of rising to the bait, the stranger turned and walked on.

A stranger in a strange land, with every man's hand turned against me.

The stranger turned away and resumed his post against the wall.