“You have them both,” Anna answered. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. I am bored to distraction. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. 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. Saint Giles's Round-house XIII.
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