” 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. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things.
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