The trip took a full day. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. 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. Ann Veronica said nothing. The black, meantime, began to ply his hammer, and speedily unriveted the chains. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday.
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