It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. But she was disappointed. But for now, I’d like to turn in, if you don’t mind. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. ” 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. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice.
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