” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. "You call in vain," rejoined Thames. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. 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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