’ She turned her head, eyes blazing. 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. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. It’s these damned novels. " CHAPTER XI. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. Teas he contributed to the commissariat of Ann Veronica’s campaign—quite a number of teas.
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