The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare. 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.
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