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It ought not to be much. You must remember, you've just begun to read; you haven't any comparisons. From midnight until morning he was now left alone. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. ” Mrs. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. 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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