Word: doors
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Sirs: I wish to protest and protest strongly against such antics on the part of the Prince of Wales as you describe in your issue of Nov. 2. No decent young man dresses himself up in girl's clothes and appears in a farce called The Bathroom Door. There are enough scatter-brained girls who call themselves " vamps" without the Prince making a "Royal Vamp" of himself. I visited England last year and want to say that a great many people in London know him for what he is. Too many Americans think he is a sweet, babyfaced, "innocent...
...that the Senate has done such a thing will ever be the blackest blot our great nation has ever known. And what is still a greater sin is that any man would try to hide and excuse his own mistakes by laying them at the door of another man. . . . But both have gone before a higher Judge than man and each will receive his just dues. And I am in hopes Mr. Lodge repented his harsh views before he was called to meet his God. For otherwise I fear that his chances of happiness will be very slim...
...topple headforemost from the balcony. Perhaps the House of Savoy would fall with him. Amid the antiFascist revolution which would spring up, anything might happen. Even as these thoughts coursed through the mind of onetime Socialist Deputy Tito Zaniboni, something happened with a vengeance. Fascist police burst in his door, collared him, took his rifle away, trundled him off to jail...
...thurifers in scarlet cassocks led the priests out of the sacristy of Christ Church and around to the big main door. A shrewd wind was blowing, touched with smoke from many autumn bonfires, and the fragrance of the incense from the swinging censers mingled in the air with the smell of burning leaves, and blew back over the moving column of priests, over the officers of the council, over the richly vested phalanx of Bishops who brought up the rear. The thurifers entered the Church. There was a rustle as the multitude stood up. Then candles were lit, hymn books...
...evening a reporter had been following Thaw and the members of his seraglio. At length the pursued taxi, careering down a dark side street, drew up in front of the Del Fey Club; Thaw followed a drugget of light on the pavement; a door closed behind him. When the reporter's knuckles a moment later belabored that door, a panel in its upper section slid back and in the slit appeared the bulldog brow of a surly doorkeeper. The reporter was a man typical of his kind, a seedy fellow, drearily accoutred. No evening shirt fluted his meagre bosom...