She turned to the stage, and Tristan was wounded in Kurvenal’s arms, with Isolde at his feet, and King Mark, the incarnation of masculine force and obligation, the masculine creditor of love and beauty, stood over him, and the second climax was ending in wreaths and reek of melodies; and then the curtain was coming down in a series of short rushes, the music had ended, and the people were stirring and breaking out into applause, and the lights of the auditorium were resuming. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. Then she was out of the door and running, fast. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. Mr. ‘Don’t lose your temper again.
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