Afraid there'll be a love-affair. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. There were words, then, that ran on indefinitely, with reversals? Here they meant one thing; there, the exact opposite. 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 was the size of my palm. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now.
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