Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. Melusine—the real Melusine—would never have made such a stupid mistake. The chapel was crowded to excess. 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. "Recollect you are in my power.
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