Jack fell on his knees beside her. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. Part 2 She found the younger generation of the Widgetts engaged in languid reminiscences, and all, as they expressed it, a “bit decayed. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. As he was about to descend his chains slightly rattled. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. 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. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient.
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