You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. ” 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. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. ” He said. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. Wood. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her.
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