He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. 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 smiled, sure of herself beyond any pretending, into his troubled eyes. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend.
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