” 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. I do not believe that there has ever lived a really great actress whose moral character from the ordinary point of view would bear inspection. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. Wood; "and I did so to see how far your effrontery would carry you.
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