It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. 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. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds.
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