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Updated: June 28, 2025
He tells me of their wooing by serenades at the window, and that their friends do always make the match; but yet that they have opportunities to meet at masse at church, and there they make love: that the Court there hath no dancing, nor visits at night to see the King or Queen, but is always just like a cloyster, nobody stirring in it: that my Lord Sandwich wears a beard now, turned up in the Spanish manner.
The Letters which the Father sent her afterwards are yet extant in the Nunnery where she resided; and are often read to the young Religious, in order to inspire them with good Resolutions and Sentiments of Virtue. It so happened, that after Constantia had lived about ten Years in the Cloyster, a violent Feaver broke out in the Place, which swept away great Multitudes, and among others Theodosius.
Sorry to lose you, of course, but " He shuffled his feet. "You're doing pretty well now at the game, aren't you, Cloyster?" he said. It was not to my interests to cry myself down, so I said that I was doing quite decently. He seemed relieved. "You're making quite a good income, I suppose? I mean, no difficulty about placing your stuff?"
Darkness a mortal's part, Mortals of whom we are: Come to a mortal's heart, Immortal star. Thos. Blake. June 6th. "Rummy, very rummy," I exclaimed. The poem was dated yesterday. Had Mr. Cloyster, then, continued to work his system with Thomas Blake to the exclusion of the Reverend and myself?
No editor, I foresaw, would accept his society stuff as long as mine was in the market. They wouldn't pay for Cloyster whilst they were offered the refusal of super-Cloyster. Wasn't likely. You must understand I wasn't over-easy in my conscience about the affair. I had, in a manner of speaking, pinched Mr. Cloyster's job.
"Hullo, Cloyster." I looked round. It was Fermin. Just the man I wanted to see. He seemed depressed. Even embarrassed. "How's the column?" I asked. "Oh, all right," he said awkwardly. "I wanted to see you about that. I was going to write to you." "Oh, yes," I said, "of course. About the holiday work. When are you off?" "I was thinking of starting next week." "Good.
It was a sleepy, hot, and sticky wreck that answered to the name of James Orlebar Cloyster that morning; but I had my first youth and forty pounds, so that soap and water, followed by coffee and an omelette, soon restored me. The journey to Waterloo gave me opportunity for tobacco and reflection.
MY DEAR CLOYSTER, The divergence of our duties and pleasures during your residence here caused us to see but little of each other. Would it had been otherwise! And too often our intercourse had on my side a distinctly professional flavour. Your attitude towards your religious obligations was, I fear, something to seek.
At last he stopped talking altogether, and wobbled in his saddle. The man bowed to him, and, as if he had won through some fiery ordeal, he shot ahead like a gay professional rider. When I drew level with him, he said, "That, Mr. Cloyster, is my tailor." Mr. Macrae was typical of the University don who is Scotch. He had married the senior historian of Newnham. His publishers order his existence.
Perhaps you would care to come to breakfast with us, Mr. Cloyster? I know my mother would be glad to see you." "It is very kind of you. I should be delighted. Shall we meet on the beach?" I swam off to my cave to dress. Breakfast was a success, for my mother was a philosopher. She said very little, but what she did say was magnificent.
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