It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof. ” 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. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. “You found the flat easily?” said Capes in the pause. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish.
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