” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. “I want you so much, Lucy. Well, kill me. I'm not particular what or where. Has she any funds?" "She must have. ‘You know about that?’ ‘It was the only possible deduction. 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. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now.
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