While he was thus employed a farming man came into the barn. 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 had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all others should have been so deceived. “All right so far,” she said to herself. . “I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your private life.
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