" "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. 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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