There was only one prisoner in the ward. A nurse was at the other end of the room. Your maid has twenty minutes to pack your dressing case for one night, and you have the same time to change into a travelling dress. 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. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
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