He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Wood, "it may be poisoned. 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. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. But a woman’s life is all chance.
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