"Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money. You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table. 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. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space.
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