D. 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. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. I'll teach you submission in time. But it means no end of a row. He felt her observance and warmed to it. ” “You are going to sing in London?” he said quietly.
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