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Table of contents
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-1-2
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-3-4
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-5-6
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-7
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-1-2
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-3
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-1-2
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-3-4-5
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-6-7
THE CRISIS-1-2-3-4
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-1-2-3
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-4-5-6
EXPOSTULATIONS-1-2-3-4
EXPOSTULATIONS-5-6
IDEALS AND A REALITY-1-2
IDEALS AND A REALITY-3-4
IDEALS AND A REALITY-5-6-7
BIOLOGY-1-2
BIOLOGY-3-4-5-6
BIOLOGY-7-8-9
DISCORDS-1
DISCORDS-2-3-4
DISCORDS-5-6-8-9
THE SUFFRAGETTES-1-2-3
THE SUFFRAGETTES-4-5
THOUGHTS IN PRISON-1-2-3-4-5-6
ANN VERONICA PUTS THINGS IN ORDER-1-2-3-4-5-6-7
THE SAPPHIRE RING-1-2-3-4
THE SAPPHIRE RING-5-6
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-1-2-3
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-4-5-6
THE LAST DAYS AT HOME-1-2-3
IN THE MOUNTAINS-1-2-3-4
IN THE MOUNTAINS-5-6-7-8-9-10-11
IN PERSPECTIVE-1-2-3

a place--This isn't the place. You have misunderstood. I can't explain--" 

 

They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. "Forgive me," he 

decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, 

and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. "I am the most foolish of 

men. I was stupid--stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon 

you in this way. I--I am a love-sick idiot, and not accountable for my 

actions. Will you forgive me--if I say no more?" 

 

She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. 

 

"Pretend," he said, "that all I have said hasn't been said. And let us 

go on with our evening. Why not? Imagine I've had a fit of hysteria--and 

that I've come round." 

 

"Yes," she said, and abruptly she liked him enormously. She felt this 

was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. 

 

He still watched her and questioned her. 

 

"And let us have a talk about this--some other time. Somewhere, where we 

can talk without interruption. Will you?" 

 

She thought, and it seemed to him she had never looked so 

self-disciplined and deliberate and beautiful. "Yes," she said, "that 

is what we ought to do." But now she doubted again of the quality of the 

armistice they had just made. 

 

He had a wild impulse to shout. "Agreed," he said with queer exaltation, 

and his grip tightened on her hand. "And to-night we are friends?" 

 

"We are friends," said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from 

him. 

 

"To-night we are as we have always been. Except that this music we have 

been swimming in is divine. While I have been pestering you, have you 

heard it? At least, you heard the first act. And all the third act is 

love-sick music. Tristan dying and Isolde coming to crown his death. 

Wagner had just been in love when he wrote it all. It begins with that 

queer piccolo solo. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will 

come pouring back over me." 

 

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. 

 


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