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. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. You go cheer him up. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. ” He was a little bewildered. ” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. Very dark, like yours, ma’am.
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