’ ‘Ah, that was well done of him,’ exclaimed Melusine. 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. “Mr. Yet I shall think of you to-day. I see now that you make a game with me indeed. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts. Perhaps it was loneliness.
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