But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. 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. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. But go thither at once, I beseech you, before he has time to remove them. “Dear me!” he said. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes.
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