“You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. ‘Think I’m fool enough to do my business in a convent?’ he said scornfully. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge. She turned to the stage, and Tristan was wounded in Kurvenal’s arms, with Isolde at his feet, and King Mark, the incarnation of masculine force and obligation, the masculine creditor of love and beauty, stood over him, and the second climax was ending in wreaths and reek of melodies; and then the curtain was coming down in a series of short rushes, the music had ended, and the people were stirring and breaking out into applause, and the lights of the auditorium were resuming. ” He whispered with reverence.
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