” “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me have your key, and I will go up and explore. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. He suspected a trap. Thank you for the books. ” “Okay. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. 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. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. That might happen on her birthday—in August. His last actions were futile.
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