Ann Veronica snatched at the opportunity, and spent most of the intervening time in the Assyrian Court of the British Museum, reading and thinking over a little book upon the feminist movement the tired woman had made her buy. 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 had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. ” “Then I didn’t waste my time in prison altogether?” “It wasn’t the prison impressed me.
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