One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. 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. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. "The doctor said something about that.
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