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. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. "I'll be very glad to take that kind of a job, if you can find it. It’s—it’s a serious prohibition. But I was portentous, I can assure you. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. She no longer felt sick or dizzy, her muscles returned to a relaxed, supple state. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. It was horrible, but she must do it.
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