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. Michelle answered the door. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face.
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