‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. ’ To be sure there was a way. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. That’s got his nerves to rags. 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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