She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. 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.
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