” To which the only possible reply seemed to be, “I’m not coming home. ” 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. ” Miss Pellissier tried ineffectually to conceal her relief. ’ The sword was released to slide back into its scabbard.
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