She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. 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. "In the first place, she had no knowledge of her birth; and, consequently, no false pride to get rid of. Heaven forbid. I can assure you, Anna, it will take me years to get decently established. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. “I’ll have to pay it.
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