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. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. Luckily, Sir James was so much engrossed by his own task, that both the remark and gesture escaped him. ’ ‘We had other matters on hand this morning,’ Roding told him sharply. Even now I do not understand. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. The man lingered.
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