[From Dorothy L. Sayers’ Busman’s Honeymoon (1937).]
“You’re cold, Peter. Come nearer the fire.”
“It’s not cold,” he said, half-angrily, “it’s my rotten nerves. I can’t help it. … I hate behaving like this. I tried to stick it out by myself.”
“But why should you?”
He stood holding out his hands mechanically to the fire till he could control the chattering of his teeth.
“It’s damnable for you too. I’m sorry. I’d forgotten. That sounds idiotic. But I’ve always been alone.”
“Yes, of course. I’m like that, too. I like to crawl away and hide in a corner.”
“Well,” he said … , “you’re my corner and I’ve come to hide.”
You too can hide in Love’s corner:
You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.