She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. 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. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses.
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