Lord help him! he's the very image of his father. ” 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 to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for.
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