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. Sheppard, meekly. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. She swallowed hard. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. Melusine turned to look at the walls, and saw, immediately opposite, set between two candelabra above a marquetry side table, a gilded mirror. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around.
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