‘Get the swords!’ ‘I’ll see to him. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. ” 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. ” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast.
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