“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. ‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me. 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. “Oh, it is okay. He flipped the television on. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault.
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