" "Your's will be nearer the truth, and have a deeper moral, Mr. 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. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. Sheppard, distractedly.
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