“I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. Ruth had not expected to be kissed; so the omission passed unnoted. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. ‘I am fascinated. ” 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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