. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. “You have the temperament,” he said. ” 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. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. \" 49 She greeted him as he scanned her from head to toe, absorbing the lines of her figure as he was doing systematically with every other female in the parking lot. But, after all, it will be different.
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