She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. “Can you take any from me?” “No, I won’t do that. ” “It was behind the Place de Vendome, on the other side from the Ritz. 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. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes.
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