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Why he's got a town house in San Leandro now. An' he rides around in a four-thousan'-dollar tourin' car. An' just the same his front door yard grows onions clear to the sidewalk. He clears three hundred a year on that patch alone. I know ten acres of land he bought last year, a thousan' an acre they asked'm, an' he never batted an eye. He knew it was worth it, that's all.
We treat it as a positive nihility, "a barrier from which all our batted balls of being rebound." Upon this idea Mr. Blood passes the usual transcendentalist criticism. There is no such separate opposite to being; yet we never think of being as such of pure being as distinguished from specific forms of being save as what stands relieved against this imaginary background.
It was Hugh that bounced and said "Let's play"; Olaf that opened luminous blue eyes and agreed "All right," in condescending gentleness. If Hugh batted him and Hugh did bat him Olaf was unafraid but shocked. In magnificent solitude he marched toward the house, while Hugh bewailed his sin and the overclouding of august favor.
In the evening the artificers landed at half-past seven, and continued till half-past eight, having completed the fixing of the smith's forge, his vice, and a wooden board or bench, which were also batted to a ledge of the rock, to the great joy of all, under a salute of three hearty cheers.
Stringer, who had batted three hundred and seventy-one and led the league the year before, struck a bad spell and could not hit a barn door handed up to him. Then came the slump. The team suddenly let down; went to pieces; played ball that would have disgraced an amateur nine. It was a trying time. Here was a great team, strong everywhere. A little hard luck had dug up a slump and now!
His relief was too strong to permit him to join in the squabbling. "You're yellow," Grimshaw went on, "yellow clean through." He nodded his head toward the Ancient Mariner. "Now there's the real thing as a man. No yellow in him. He never batted an eye, and I reckon he knew more about the danger than you did.
While the people on Project Sign were pondering over Lieutenant Gorman's dogfight with the UFO at the time they weren't even considering the balloon angle the Top Secret Estimate of the Situation was working its way up into the higher echelons of the Air Force. It got to the late General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, then Chief of Staff, before it was batted back down.
She leaned to him, with the color drained out of her face; and the crowd of black and pink and red dominoes, gnomes gone mad, pressed, batted, surged. "Look out, Sweetness! Don't give out in here! They'll crush us out. 'Ain't you got no nerve? Here; don't give out now! Gee! Watch out, there! The lady's sick. Watch out! Here; now sit down a minute and get your wind."
"What did you do with the professor?" he demanded. The cadets kept silent. "Where did you take him?" he shouted. Neither Tom, Roger, or Astro batted an eyelash. They kept their eyes front and their lips tight. "I warn you, you'll spend the rest of your lives on a prison rock if you don't answer!" Tom finally turned and looked straight at the governor. "May I speak, sir?"
"Young man," says he, calmin' down and motionin' me to a chair, "as usual, you seem to be more or less well informed on this matter yourself. Now let's have the rest of it." And just like that, all of a sudden, it's batted up to me. So I lets it come, with all the details about Uncle Dudley's frosty home life, and the reformer son out West that still thinks father is makin' good.
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