’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. 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. Earles said, rubbing his hands together, “by post. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. ‘Certainly those are names of the most undistinguished, and I would scorn to have them. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. Terrific yells rent the air.
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