” “You will shake hands with me, please,” she begged. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. " "But why didn't you oppose him?" "I had to let him have his way, else he might not have returned safely. ” 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. .
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