’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. Love anywhere. 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. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice.
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