” 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. . ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. . ” “I have been through dozens of foster parents, John. The air was thick with feelings. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas.
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