Anna Goldhair in a shrinking attempt to hide herself, crouches near the door, behind those coming in.
"The Three Heron's Feathers"
Hermann Sudermann
Every time I saw him in a new place: there he lies asleep out in the street-there he crouches on some steps in an archway-once, even, devils are playing ball with him-he flies from hand to hand through the air-later on I come across him lying frozen in a rubbish-box.
"Stories and Pictures"
Isaac Loeb Peretz
He crouches to the whip, and like a coward pities while he lashes himself.
"Anna St. Ives"
Thomas Holcroft