She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. ” 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. ” Ann Veronica thought.
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