For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. He kissed her once on the lips with a passion of which, during all their days of married life, he had given no sign. 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. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. Wood," returned Jackson, with the utmost composure; "you're a headborough, and a loyal subject of King George.
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