Sepulchre's clock struck eight. 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. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. ’ ‘Because I have never heard anything so ridiculous,’ Gerald announced. ‘But I have been perfectly honest about that.
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