“You are wrong! I did not think you thought such things. 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. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. " "I know it," replied Sheppard, "and therefore I spare your life. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place.
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