’ The fury welled. ” 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. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. She had finally managed to start breaking him down.
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