Wood turned to look at him. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. And, in addition, she was now seeing and talking to Ramage almost weekly, on a theory which she took very gravely, that they were exceptionally friends. “I can survive on my own. E below. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. By policemen one mustn’t shock. 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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