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. The boy was coming around. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. He cried out but his father only waved 280 like an automaton until the apparition disappeared. " "Perhaps that was it. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love.
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