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. "I beg your pardon!… A bit rocky this morning…. ’ Melusine sighed in a satisfied way. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains.
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