She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. ” 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 had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity.
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