He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. "I've spoken. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. ‘Jacques?’ she called. ” He stood up and waited for her to move. She comprehends what we're about. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. She and John were able to see each other many times and spent long romantic winter afternoons together. Tristan dying and Isolde coming to crown his death. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes.
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