Put your arms around her and tell her you love her. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. ” 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 realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future.
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