” 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. And yet, when you offered to help, it was what is to come that I had in mind. “Now you look happy. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean.
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