There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. She had the dowry she needed for the lawyers were working to give her Remenham House. 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. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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