Bullding?” “Stout old gentleman four places down on the left. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. 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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