“You have them both,” Anna answered. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. 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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