For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. But not today. 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 very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. ” He whispered back as he pulled her pants and underwear off of her trembling legs. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze.
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