” 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. Other girls gathered around like sheep. ’ ‘Oh,’ Gerald uttered, disappointed. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door.
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