” He paused with a sense of ineptitude. ” 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. Lives by his wits and gambling. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape.
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