” Lucy said, leading him upstairs behind her. ” 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. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps.
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