” 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. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. ” She swept out of the room. ” “Then I was never married to him at all?” Annabel said. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. ‘But the fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to threaten to kill me, and I— God help me!—should not have kissed you at all.
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