He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. Besides ——” She stopped short. ” 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.
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