"Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner. Nobody can anticipate your next move. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. 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. ’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald.
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