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. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. She became at times an embodiment for Ann Veronica of all that made the suffrage movement defective and unsatisfying.
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