“It isn’t fair. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. “No, don’t interrupt me. 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. "You've won your wager. She had reason enough to be grateful to Prudence Sindlesham and it was not fair that this horrible feeling of loneliness should be made known to her. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. Confidence in himself would strengthen him.
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