It was too good to be true. 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. ’ ‘Exactly so. "It is too late. It had been discussed in silence. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. "By G—! she has missed her footing. ” That was the quintessence of her brother Roddy. ” She looked thoughtfully into the fire.
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