During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. Perhaps it was loneliness. “Not a bit of it. "By the way," said the doctor, as he sat down in the dining room of the Victoria and ordered tea, "I've been thinking it over. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. 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. ’ She grimaced. . Listen, Jack. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. ” “Be very sure that you do,” Anna said slowly.
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