It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. You cannot depart hence. If we were set upon I could not defend you. 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. "I should as soon have expected the bones of Tom Sheppard to reunite themselves and walk out of that case, as Thames Darrell to return.
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