" "Hoddy," she repeated. "Leave him to me," he said. ” 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. Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices.
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