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 tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. . She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. ” She spoke rather quickly, because she found her father’s question the most awkward she had ever had to answer in her life.
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