She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence 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. “I hope you will not compel me to say again that I do not know the man’s name, nor, to the best of my belief, have I ever seen him before in my life. . “I’m really very sorry. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Get out your pad and pencil. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell.
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