Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. “What he had was altogether insufficient. 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. Thames returned no answer. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you.
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