"I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. " "There you are, just as I said. I’ll be waiting for you outside. White told me where to find you. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. 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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