In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Then she saw the bodies piled in the corner. 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. “To my chagrin, I have. Sir John felt hot and furious.
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