The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. I take it, down where we're going will be nothing new to you. "Well, I'm not far from the mark. "You must be a cleverer lad than even I take you for, if you get out of this place. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. Hurry. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. 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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