"I shall be obliged to hang him to keep him company. Lost me place, that’s all. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. But really it is much more than that. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. 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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