’ Fury was in her face. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. 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. "It is the voice of inspiration," said Thames; "and I receive it as a solemn command. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. It is not possible for us to be on friendly terms with a young man who has been seen in a public place, having supper alone with your sister after midnight.
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