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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. Very well. “I’m covered. ” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it. ” She smiled at the thought. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. “You do not even know what you are talking about.

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