” Sir John looked at her sideways. 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 whole force of the constables, jailers and others was required to keep the crowd out of the Hall. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. You do not need my compliments.
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