"Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. " "So did I," said Winifred. And then she could see nothing at all for his lips founds hers. There was nothing to be got out of the man. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. ” 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4xMjQuMjI2IC0gMDItMDctMjAyNCAwMzo1NDoxMSAtIDc2MTU1OTIx
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