The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. ’ Then she whisked from the room, hearing Lucilla utter a delighted squeal as she closed the door behind her. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. ” 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.
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