. “Because you used to be my friend, Lucy, and now I don’t get to see you anymore unless I can get into your house. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. During all this time, he had never quitted the iron bar, and he now grasped it with the firm determination of selling his life dearly, if he met with any opposition. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. “Oh, please. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. He’s riding down the drive. Still, one never could tell. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. . 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. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness.
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