My heart stood still as I held the bottle to the light.

He started north, still holding the green bottle in his right hand.

I held the bottle of wine and did not say anything.

The old guy held the cold bottle against his face for a moment and then took a long pull.

But when this sense failed her, my job was to hold the bottle for him.

I reached over him and held a bottle up to the light to see if there was anything left in it.

He held the empty bottle - his last - up to the light of the fire.

She pointed at him with the hand holding the bottle.

He started to hold the bottle out to Jack, then shook his head a little.

He was holding a bottle of beer in his hand.