’ Melusine shrugged. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. It is putting all my dreams out of joint. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. ‘Sindlesham? But Gerald has gone out of town to visit that very person. . ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Lose no time. We came on here at once. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. 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. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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