" "Perhaps not," replied Jack, to whom an idea had suddenly occurred. Given time and the right environment, and he would outgrow these defects. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. Ruth could not be told now. ” 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. While you talked I was only making our plans.
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