“I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. ’ Looking round, she found the little coterie of soldiers crowded into the passage behind them. 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.
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