Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. She delighted in frustrating him. ” His voice rose and fell amidst the music and the singing of Tristan and King Mark, like a voice heard in a badly connected telephone. Later, she would sew it on.
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