Don't shake so. . ” 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. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. Half a minute, Vee. Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name.
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