” 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. “Bother it all!” she swore. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. "See her I will. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. Evidently Ah Cum's luck had held good.
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