" "Go, I insist," cried Thames, "or take the consequences upon yourself. Let’s go up to my room. "I'll have to set you right on that, too. He's got the gift of the gab. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. 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. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen.
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