. She made herself a private declaration of liberty. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. I’m so glad you’re not angry. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. 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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