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’ll tell everyone soon, if only to gain herself some attention!” He cried under his breath. So this was what it was all about. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day.
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