” Annabel rose slowly to her feet, walked to the door as though to see that it was shut, and came back with slow lagging footsteps. “That’s the point. 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. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. So now I will say nothing more to you, and you will please to say nothing more to me, for I do not reply. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him.
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