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Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. He must be gone to dispose of the body. 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. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. "That's all right.
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