” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. ” “I was late. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other.
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