” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. \"Oh my word, Mike. 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. ” And seeing that Hetty and Constance were obviously developing objections, she plunged at once into a demand for help.
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