He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice. “A very clear statement, madam,” he said. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could. 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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