“No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. 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. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt.
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