” 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. The boy would naturally attract the women, if the women were at all romantic. His face was white. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. " "If I thought so—" cried the knight fiercely; "but this is idle," he added, suddenly checking himself. Lucy's grin faded.
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