” 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. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. ” “Please tell me why?” she asked. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time.
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