” 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. He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff.
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