"Do not steel your heart against him, dear Thames," interposed Winifred. She turned to the stage, and Tristan was wounded in Kurvenal’s arms, with Isolde at his feet, and King Mark, the incarnation of masculine force and obligation, the masculine creditor of love and beauty, stood over him, and the second climax was ending in wreaths and reek of melodies; and then the curtain was coming down in a series of short rushes, the music had ended, and the people were stirring and breaking out into applause, and the lights of the auditorium were resuming. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. Very well, then. “Quite alone, sir.
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