"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. "You shall have the sum you require, but——" "But what, Madam!" "Do not misunderstand me," she proceeded. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented.
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