She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. It was about twelve feet high, nine wide, and fourteen long; and was approached by double doors each six inches thick. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. . I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. 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. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. This—all this swamps them.
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