” 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. ” Ann Veronica was stung to helpless anger. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. “It’s the spring,” he said. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness.
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