“It was a plot amongst them all to humiliate her. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. ’ ‘You won’t go to the general then?’ ‘There is no need. E. 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. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death.
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