“Number 13, please, cabman. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. It seemed to make her sister downcast beyond any precedent. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. 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. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. Wood now re-appeared with a very red face; and, followed by Winifred, took her seat at the table.
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