’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine. 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. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. It was no marriage at all. In an instant, she turned on him.
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