’ Melusine sobered, sitting down again. ” “One may do both,” said Ann Veronica. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. ” 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. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. " The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her.
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