” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. He rested on one elbow. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. ” 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. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. Even that he sleeps, I must give to him my thanks, for he has been excessively brave for me.
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