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. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard.
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