“For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. "Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. ” He came and stood on the hearthrug close to her. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot. 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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