But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. 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. There was something holding women down, holding women back, and if it wasn’t exactly man-made law, man-made law was an aspect of it. The change will come to-day. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him.
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