An' that's what I like aboutchu… y' have a way of understandin' things.

Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world / Like one great garden show'd, / And thro' the wreaths of floating dark upcurl'd, / Rare sunrise flow'd.

If you hadn't hit that last ball, we would have lost. Good job!

With that away she went, and he, dismounting, caught sight of her disappearing from among the shining magnolia-trees that were planted hedgewise round the lawn.