” 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. Besides ——” She stopped short. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. In the first place, it will be damnably dull. You are very kind.
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