“I wish you didn’t. E. \" Lucy said. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. 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 she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. “How?” 106 “The other person makes the mistake of going to sleep. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer.
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