\"This is my best friend, Mark. 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. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. I do not care, but only that you will leave my affairs to me.
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