She repeated this breathlessly. 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. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. CHAPTER XXVII.
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