On the fifth day he had ventured speech with her. 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. I presume that I may not kiss you in the street?” “Certainly not, sir,” she replied, laughing. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. \"I had a good time tonight. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy.
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