“And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. ” “It is my wish to be alone,” she said wearily. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. 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. " "Hurt her? It would tear her to pieces; God knows she has had enough. Something has changed her tremendously. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t.
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