Wood had been my father, as well as yours. “You’d have to think how to get in between his bones. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. 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 hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown.
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