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“Love me, Adorable Mother! Mary, I worship no other. Save me, O, graciously save me I pray! Let my Darkness be turned into Day By the Light of Thy Grace And Thy Face, I pray!” |
She continued the exquisite refrain on the keys for a while, then slowly turned to the man beside her.
“The one Mass I still love,” she murmured absently, “––memories of childhood, I suppose––when the Sisters made me sing the solo––I was only ten years old.” ... She shrugged her shoulders: “You know, in those days, I was a little devil,” she said seriously.
He smiled.
“I really was, Jim,––all over everything and wild as a swallow. I led the pack; Shadow Hill held us in 243 horror. I remember I fought our butcher’s boy once––right in the middle of the street–––”
“Why?”
“He did something to a cat which I couldn’t stand.”
“Did you whip him?”
“Oh, Jim, it was horrid. We both were dreadfully battered. And the constable caught us both, and I shall never, never forget my mother’s face!–––”
She gazed down at the keys of the piano, touched them pensively.