"What is all this, dear Winny?" inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone. The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. To-morrow I am going to Paris. You don’t want to look like Bozo. “Soon she will return. . 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. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me.
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