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. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. I don’t think you and Mike are right for each other. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. "I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly.
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