“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. She turned to the stage, and Tristan was wounded in Kurvenal’s arms, with Isolde at his feet, and King Mark, the incarnation of masculine force and obligation, the masculine creditor of love and beauty, stood over him, and the second climax was ending in wreaths and reek of melodies; and then the curtain was coming down in a series of short rushes, the music had ended, and the people were stirring and breaking out into applause, and the lights of the auditorium were resuming. And there arose too, a background of shouts. ’ She frowned suddenly. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is. I shall have to discover one suitable. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story.
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