’ ‘That,’ said Gosse, ‘is a matter of opinion. “Julian, please, let’s go to your place. Jackson!" "So he would," replied the latter: "so he would. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. While he was thus employed a farming man came into the barn. 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.
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