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Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. 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 birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers.

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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 09-06-2024 07:47:57

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