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Further up the stream, we come to old Windsor Castle, to be reminded of bluff Bluebeard, bigamous, wicked, king Hal; higher still, we are at Oxford, the nursery of our Church, the `alma mater' of our learning.
Remember me, Peg, in the midst of your pleasuring!" "Mater, I will!" cried Peggy solemnly. She looked in the sweet, worn face, and her heart beat quickly. A hundred resolutions had she made in her life, and alas! had also broken, but this time it would go hardly with her if she neglected her vow to her second mother.
In addition to the diva mater Alemona was the divus pater Vaticanus, the holy father Vatican, who assisted at a child's first cry. There was the equally holy father Fabulin, who attended him in his earliest efforts at speech. Neither of them had anything else to do. Pavor had.
Medenham frowned a little at the reference to Cynthia, but something of the sort was necessary if an open scandal was to be avoided. As for "Dear Mater," she was so unnerved that she actually wept. Hard and calculating though she might be, the man was her son, and the bitter experiences of twenty years warned her that he had been driven from Bristol by some ghost new risen from an evil past.
On one wall hung a large wooden crucifix, painted with glaring colours; on the other a touching picture of the Mater Dolorosa, with the swords in her heart, looked down upon her. Beside Kuni's pallet stood a Gray Sister and an elderly man, evidently a physician. His long black robe, tall dark cap, and gold headed cane bore witness to it.
"DEAR MR. LEITH, I feel pretty rotten about you. I thought when once a clever boxer gave his honor on a thing it was a dead cert. The mater wouldn't let me write before, though I've been at her over it every day for weeks. But now we're going away, so she says I may write and just tell you. If you want to say good-by could you telephone, she says. P'raps you don't. P'raps you've forgotten us.
A Pilgrimage to Beethoven is, in its way, a masterpiece. It also is full of self-revelation; some of it conscious, some unconscious. A Happy Evening is another charming thing; the skit on how Rossini's Stabat Mater came to be composed is amusing, and is cruel with a cruelty that was justified.
If the dura mater be penetrated, and the arachnoid cavity be opened, then there will be in all probability a very considerable extravasation of blood, and by this time, doubtless, serious inflammation of all the surrounding tissues.
She fought down the impulse though and moved over to the window. "You want me to go away and hide?" she asked from there, her voice dangerously quiet. He glanced up at her. "Keep out of the mater's way," he acknowledged, "she would have seven fits." "Why?" asked Joan. "Why," he repeated, "good Lord, you don't know the mater. She " Joan interrupted.
"When they talk about wholesomeness and that sort of r of thing, well, I beg your pardon, mater dear, but you know you do, sometimes, in a manner to turn gray the hair, when they do, I always think it's a dreadful shame to have wholesome things on your birthday. And oh, I say!"
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