“She must go her own way. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. ’ ‘Ah, that is easy,’ she began, laughing. Miss Annabel is her sister. He was going to settle I forget how many millions upon me, and I think that I was dazzled. ” 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.
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