" Sheppard started to his feet. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. 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. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way.
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