‘But there is something still I do not understand. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. . In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked. I tell you—never mind the bill. 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. It could not be a legal marriage. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them.
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