"Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter. I hope that James will not be long with that whisky and Apollinaris. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. She turned to the stage, and Tristan was wounded in Kurvenal’s arms, with Isolde at his feet, and King Mark, the incarnation of masculine force and obligation, the masculine creditor of love and beauty, stood over him, and the second climax was ending in wreaths and reek of melodies; and then the curtain was coming down in a series of short rushes, the music had ended, and the people were stirring and breaking out into applause, and the lights of the auditorium were resuming. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze.
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