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There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. Yes, this was a little better. D'ye hear. And in some incomprehensible way, Ramage was confused with Capes; she had a grotesque disposition to persuade herself that this was really Capes who surrounded her, as it were, with wings of desire. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs. 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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