. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up. "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. 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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