She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. You can trust me, Anna. ” 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.
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