The room was dark and dusty. ’ ‘Hélas, poor you,’ Melusine rejoined sarcastically. “Drugs, mainly. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin. ” 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. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it.
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