“By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. ” 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. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. Her place was not filled; she had been simply noted as absent, and she did a comforting day of admirable dissection upon the tortoise.
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