"If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors which lay beside the pencils—Hoddy's! The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. And catching hold of Thames, he quitted the deck. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. 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. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house.
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