She dismissed the idea of doing so. 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. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. “Please have a seat. “And let’s have a look at you, Vee!” said Mr. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. ” “I am going to pack my bag,” Anna answered.
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