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. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. Besides, it was under false pretences. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. Tell Lucy about the time you were nine years old and blew up the house, John. ‘Is she the Frenchie we’ve been watching for then, sir?’ The lady’s furious features turned on this new target. Many other expedients occurred to her; but after making several ineffectual attempts to get into the Mint unobserved, they were all abandoned.
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