" "What time is it?" inquired Jack. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. 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. " O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot.
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