” 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. An incredible road he had elected to travel; he granted that it was incredible; and along this road somewhere would be Desire. ’ Lucilla let out a peal of laughter. Or, after all, is it worth while? The Channel is a little broader than the Boulevards— but one crosses it sometimes. \"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Shari. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed.
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