He could lose himself for hours at a time. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. " "Very well, sir. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. He got up brusquely. " "I'll never understand. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. “Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. The Frenchman was already being followed. ’ His friend held it out of the way. 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. We can be friends again.
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