For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. ’ ‘It will be worth the pain, you will see. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. It’s not you—not a bit. 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.
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