” “But—This bolt from the blue! My God! Ann Veronica, you don’t understand. 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. ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it. Lucy kissed him on the cheek. ‘But lay him down. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men. She almost sprang to her feet. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. His manner was deferential, even eager.
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