” She went as far as her door, then turned to the window. Please to release me. He felt her observance and warmed to it. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. 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. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed.
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