” “Oh no he doesn’t. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. ” 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. Half after six. “Dear old daddy!” she said, and was amazed to find herself shedding tears. ’ ‘I find that difficult to believe,’ snapped the general, jerking to and fro as his agitation mounted.
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