A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. “Please, Michelle, let’s not fight. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. Unlocking a cupboard, he then took out some cold meat and other viands, with a flask of wine, and a bottle of brandy, and began to eat and drink voraciously. 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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