She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. "Yale? Why, so am I. 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. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. "Do you dare to insinuate that Mrs.
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