Charcoal. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. 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. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. She is English! I am sure of that.
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