” 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. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. Maggot. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself. We can get absorbed in play, in games, in the business we do. She gave tongue to the most urgent of her plaints.
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