Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. “Have you no understanding of your own advanced history classes? You want to look like a brainwashed Nazi anti-Semite?” Lucy became angry, her nostrils flaring. 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. Michelle seemed so innocent and sweet.
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