‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. I have been very foolish, but it is over. ” 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. ” “Then there is also,” Anna remarked, “a Montague Hill who is very much alive. She throws a sort of spell over us all. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all.
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