Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. 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. Both had lived rather quietly until a scandal had opened up a can of worms for the son, allegations of child abduction, reported sightings of a white van around nearby elementary schools. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. \"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. \"You're so strong.
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