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Updated: June 8, 2025
A hundred pairs of eyes sought her pew and focused themselves upon the pretty young woman sitting there, red, angry, and shamefaced. Mr. Black was visibly amused and could hardly keep from laughing aloud. As Frances passed by the Hamiltons' pew in her promenade down the aisle, Mrs.
These we were to find; for these we craned and stared, focused glasses, and wrangled over charts; and the sun was overhead and the land close ahead before we found them.
Clearly he was no longer at the tavern, and clearly some one had taken the trouble to bandage his hurts. At length his eyes rolling from side to side focused themselves on a low opening near the foot of his shakedown bed. Beyond this opening, and at some little distance, he saw a sunbonneted woman of a plump and comfortable presence. She was leaning against a tub which rested on a rude bench.
He pointed to the rising ground beyond the seashore, but they could see nothing. Presently there was a glitter of light amongst the green, and Lydia pointed. "I thought that sort of thing was never done except in comic newspapers," she said, but Jean did not smile. Her eyes were focused on the point where the unseen observer lay or sat, and she shaded her eyes.
Their attention was focused upon the broad stage, where, descending from a lift, a strange group stepped out upon the stage, stood an instant in startled wonder that was near embarrassment, then took the seats to which they were shown. And again the venerable President of the Federation Aeronautique Internationale was speaking.
But here, for this once anyway, was a convention wherein there were no spicy bits of gossip to be picked up curse words, yes, and cold-chilled fighting words, but not gossip everything focused and was summed up in the one main point: Should the majority rule the machine or should the machine rule the majority?
"Thanks," said he, thrusting it into his overcoat pocket. Then his queerly working brain focused associations. "I know what we can do," said he. "We can go to Naples." "What good would that be?" she asked, treating the preposterous question seriously. He was taken aback by her directness, and passed his fingers through his hair. "I don't know," said he.
The marae was the cathedral of the Tahitians. About it focused all the ceremonies of the worship of divinity, of consecration of priests and warriors to their gods and their chiefs. The oldest marae was that of Opoa, on the island of Raiatea, the source of the religion of these groups. It was built by Hiro, the first king of Raiatea, who, deified after death, became the god of thieves.
With feverish haste, Phobar ran to the huge telescope and rapidly focused it where the new planet should be. Five hundred million miles beyond Neptune was a flaming path like the beam of a giant searchlight that extended exactly to the eighth solar planet. Phobar gasped. He could hardly credit the testimony of his eyes. He looked more closely.
He had his Zeiss glasses in his hand. "I focused it before it got over the trees," said he. "I won't undertake to say what it was, but I'll risk my reputation as a sportsman that it wasn't any bird that ever I clapped eyes on in my life." So there the matter stands. Are we really just at the edge of the unknown, encountering the outlying pickets of this lost world of which our leader speaks?
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