” After a pause, she added, “Do you mind fetching back my recalcitrant cavalier. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. ’ ‘Not French?’ echoed Hilary. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Without her, it was lonely. 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.
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