But for perfect satisfaction, he must take a peek into the bedroom. ” 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. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. I. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac.
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