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 Oriental has no equivalent. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. ‘Odd sort of a nun. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. It was a pity people had to eat food. If you like books and music, we'll get along.
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