"And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. ’ Gerald could not resist. I won't give him a chance. 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.
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