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. ’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers. But now it was all over, and Alice was getting on well. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. Wood. I won’t even ask.
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