Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. Capes had altered scarcely at all during the interval, except for a new quality of smartness in the cut of his clothes, but Ann Veronica was nearly half an inch taller; her face was at once stronger and softer, her neck firmer and rounder, and her carriage definitely more womanly than it had been in the days of her rebellion. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. And that would spoil it. 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. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window.
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