“We will follow you in another cab. 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. ’ The lady’s face came round, a puzzled frown on her brow. “After all, it’s our honeymoon. I said I’d do anything. We have that gift. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. His face fell. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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