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She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. 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. You might be able to use the picture some day. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. CHAPTER XVI. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. Courtlaw stood up.
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