"Open the door, I say, or I'll burst it open. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. "Not a syllable!" answered the carpenter, angrily. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running. 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. . Sheppard.
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