If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. She peered into the darkness. 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.
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