" "Oh!" Ruth laughed softly. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. He had remarkably skilful fingers and a love of detailed processes, and he had become one of the most dexterous amateur makers of rock sections in the world. “Very much as usual,” said Ramage. . She turned off the light and approached the window. He hated the taste of it. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. 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.
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