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. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. ‘She is a maid only, and I do not believe she has married Emile. There was only one prisoner in the ward.
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