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. Gerald crossed back to the window. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. Griffin. Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory.
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