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. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. ” “Do you still love him?” “Just the opposite.
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