One must be on guard. It was ended. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. 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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