“For one thing I am going to marry David Courtlaw. 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. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. First you do not come to see me since three days, and me, I know nothing of what happens with Gosse until this capitaine of yours has come today. No one. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind.
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