“I am only sorry that I did not ask you to go with me. 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 dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not.
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