For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. 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. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. He kissed her cheek. It was better even than the hymn-singing.
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