” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. "Yale!" Spurlock's gaze shifted to the dead hills beyond the window; when it returned to the Chinaman there was astonishment instead of interest: as if Ah Cum had been a phantom a moment since and was now actually a human being. 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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