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But this is the first time I ever sailed on any one of the three. 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. I did not know what God had in mind then. She answered him almost coldly. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. I ought to be able to think things out. "Far from, it, Sir.
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