She was silent. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. I'll tell you what. 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. \" Lucy said as they ascended the steps. ” She said bitterly.
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