A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. 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. . She lifted the sheet and gestured for him to join her. “Come in. ’ Still no response. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. She backed away from him.
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