It wailed at Lucy, chubby arms reaching towards her, pleading. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. ’ He nodded. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. . 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. ” “I suppose I must have thought so. ‘But to do only what one wishes, it is not always convenient.
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