Then he turned to Anna. ’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. ” 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. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. No one will ever love you as I love you now.
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