The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. She must kill this man, or kill herself. "This is very fine of you, Miss…. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. "My worst fears are realized. 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. So long.
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