The rumor mills churned with the news that he harbored for her no ill will, but was simply too busy in his life to have a girlfriend that wasn’t “serious”. She looked at him mournfully. That was an admission all right. Every one looked at Anna. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. I shouldn't talk like that. I don’t know if I express myself clearly. 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 laughed softly, and leaned across the table. “You shall go,” he declared.
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