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He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. “What has he done? “What shall I do. ” “I shall always be grateful to you,” he declared. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. 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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