Luckily, Mrs. 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. “I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water. Ah Cum made a movement as though to follow, but reconsidered. ‘Again you seek to interfere in my affairs?’ ‘I did warn you I had every intention of doing so,’ said Gerald. “I’m not going to kill you, John.
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