. 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. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ’ ‘Je m’en moque. While you talked I was only making our plans. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind.
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