"Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. 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. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. ‘That is a matter for the lawyers. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Dinner consisted of three courses. They drove rapidly through the emptying streets.
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