” “I’ve had a biological training. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. ” “But you,” she exclaimed, “you are not coming. Once before—but that had been different. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. But it's French manners, I suppose. 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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