“I am going through the other rooms. “There wasn’t. " He patted her hand. 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. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting. “Why?” he asked, suavely. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. ‘Yes, miss. ” He was intrigued.
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