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She
knitted
with
firm
composure
,
slightly
pursing
her
lips
and
,
without
being
aware
of
it
,
so
stiffened
and
composed
the
lines
of
her
face
in
a
habit
of
sternness
that
when
her
husband
passed
,
though
he
was
chuckling
at
the
thought
that
Hume
,
the
philosopher
,
grown
enormously
fat
,
had
stuck
in
a
bog
,
he
could
not
help
noting
,
as
he
passed
,
the
sternness
at
the
heart
of
her
beauty
.
It
saddened
him
,
and
her
remoteness
pained
him
,
and
he
felt
,
as
he
passed
,
that
he
could
not
protect
her
,
and
,
when
he
reached
the
hedge
,
he
was
sad
.
He
could
do
nothing
to
help
her
.
He
must
stand
by
and
watch
her
.
Indeed
,
the
infernal
truth
was
,
he
made
things
worse
for
her
.
He
was
irritable
--
he
was
touchy
.
He
had
lost
his
temper
over
the
Lighthouse
.
He
looked
into
the
hedge
,
into
its
intricacy
,
its
darkness
.
Always
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
felt
,
one
helped
oneself
out
of
solitude
reluctantly
by
laying
hold
of
some
little
odd
or
end
,
some
sound
,
some
sight
.
She
listened
,
but
it
was
all
very
still
;
cricket
was
over
;
the
children
were
in
their
baths
;
there
was
only
the
sound
of
the
sea
.
She
stopped
knitting
;
she
held
the
long
reddish-brown
stocking
dangling
in
her
hands
a
moment
.
She
saw
the
light
again
.
With
some
irony
in
her
interrogation
,
for
when
one
woke
at
all
,
one
's
relations
changed
,
she
looked
at
the
steady
light
,
the
pitiless
,
the
remorseless
,
which
was
so
much
her
,
yet
so
little
her
,
which
had
her
at
its
beck
and
call
(
she
woke
in
the
night
and
saw
it
bent
across
their
bed
,
stroking
the
floor
)
,
but
for
all
that
she
thought
,
watching
it
with
fascination
,
hypnotised
,
as
if
it
were
stroking
with
its
silver
fingers
some
sealed
vessel
in
her
brain
whose
bursting
would
flood
her
with
delight
,
she
had
known
happiness
,
exquisite
happiness
,
intense
happiness
,
and
it
silvered
the
rough
waves
a
little
more
brightly
,
as
daylight
faded
,
and
the
blue
went
out
of
the
sea
and
it
rolled
in
waves
of
pure
lemon
which
curved
and
swelled
and
broke
upon
the
beach
and
the
ecstasy
burst
in
her
eyes
and
waves
of
pure
delight
raced
over
the
floor
of
her
mind
and
she
felt
,
It
is
enough
!
It
is
enough
!
He
turned
and
saw
her
.
Ah
!
She
was
lovely
,
lovelier
now
than
ever
he
thought
.
But
he
could
not
speak
to
her
.
He
could
not
interrupt
her
.
He
wanted
urgently
to
speak
to
her
now
that
James
was
gone
and
she
was
alone
at
last
.
But
he
resolved
,
no
;
he
would
not
interrupt
her
.
She
was
aloof
from
him
now
in
her
beauty
,
in
her
sadness
.
He
would
let
her
be
,
and
he
passed
her
without
a
word
,
though
it
hurt
him
that
she
should
look
so
distant
,
and
he
could
not
reach
her
,
he
could
do
nothing
to
help
her
And
again
he
would
have
passed
her
without
a
word
had
she
not
,
at
that
very
moment
,
given
him
of
her
own
free
will
what
she
knew
he
would
never
ask
,
and
called
to
him
and
taken
the
green
shawl
off
the
picture
frame
,
and
gone
to
him
.
For
he
wished
,
she
knew
,
to
protect
her
.
She
folded
the
green
shawl
about
her
shoulders
.
She
took
his
arm
.
His
beauty
was
so
great
,
she
said
,
beginning
to
speak
of
Kennedy
the
gardener
,
at
once
he
was
so
awfully
handsome
,
that
she
could
n't
dismiss
him
.
There
was
a
ladder
against
the
greenhouse
,
and
little
lumps
of
putty
stuck
about
,
for
they
were
beginning
to
mend
the
greenhouse
.
Yes
,
but
as
she
strolled
along
with
her
husband
,
she
felt
that
that
particular
source
of
worry
had
been
placed
.
She
had
it
on
the
tip
of
her
tongue
to
say
,
as
they
strolled
,
"
It
'll
cost
fifty
pounds
,
"
but
instead
,
for
her
heart
failed
her
about
money
,
she
talked
about
Jasper
shooting
birds
,
and
he
said
,
at
once
,
soothing
her
instantly
,
that
it
was
natural
in
a
boy
,
and
he
trusted
he
would
find
better
ways
of
amusing
himself
before
long
.
Her
husband
was
so
sensible
,
so
just
.
And
so
she
said
,
"
Yes
;
all
children
go
through
stages
,
"
and
began
considering
the
dahlias
in
the
big
bed
,
and
wondering
what
about
next
year
's
flowers
,
and
had
he
heard
the
children
's
nickname
for
Charles
Tansley
,
she
asked
.
The
atheist
,
they
called
him
,
the
little
atheist
.
"
He
's
not
a
polished
specimen
,
"
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
"
Far
from
it
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
She
supposed
it
was
all
right
leaving
him
to
his
own
devices
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
said
,
wondering
whether
it
was
any
use
sending
down
bulbs
;
did
they
plant
them
?
"
Oh
,
he
has
his
dissertation
to
write
,
"
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
She
knew
all
about
THAT
,
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
He
talked
of
nothing
else
.
It
was
about
the
influence
of
somebody
upon
something
.
"
Well
,
it
's
all
he
has
to
count
on
,
"
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
"
Pray
Heaven
he
wo
n't
fall
in
love
with
Prue
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
He
'd
disinherit
her
if
she
married
him
,
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
He
did
not
look
at
the
flowers
,
which
his
wife
was
considering
,
but
at
a
spot
about
a
foot
or
so
above
them
.
There
was
no
harm
in
him
,
he
added
,
and
was
just
about
to
say
that
anyhow
he
was
the
only
young
man
in
England
who
admired
his
--
when
he
choked
it
back
.
He
would
not
bother
her
again
about
his
books
.
These
flowers
seemed
creditable
,
Mr.
Ramsay
said
,
lowering
his
gaze
and
noticing
something
red
,
something
brown
.
Yes
,
but
then
these
she
had
put
in
with
her
own
hands
,
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
The
question
was
,
what
happened
if
she
sent
bulbs
down
;
did
Kennedy
plant
them
?
It
was
his
incurable
laziness
;
she
added
,
moving
on
.
If
she
stood
over
him
all
day
long
with
a
spade
in
her
hand
,
he
did
sometimes
do
a
stroke
of
work
.
So
they
strolled
along
,
towards
the
red-hot
pokers
.
"
You
're
teaching
your
daughters
to
exaggerate
,
"
said
Mr.
Ramsay
,
reproving
her
.
Her
Aunt
Camilla
was
far
worse
than
she
was
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
remarked
.
"
Nobody
ever
held
up
your
Aunt
Camilla
as
a
model
of
virtue
that
I
'm
aware
of
,
"
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
"
She
was
the
most
beautiful
woman
I
ever
saw
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
"
Somebody
else
was
that
,
"
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
Prue
was
going
to
be
far
more
beautiful
than
she
was
,
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
He
saw
no
trace
of
it
,
said
Mr.
Ramsay
.
"
Well
,
then
,
look
tonight
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
They
paused
.
He
wished
Andrew
could
be
induced
to
work
harder
.
He
would
lose
every
chance
of
a
scholarship
if
he
did
n't
.
"
Oh
,
scholarships
!
"
she
said
.
Mr.
Ramsay
thought
her
foolish
for
saying
that
,
about
a
serious
thing
,
like
a
scholarship
.
He
should
be
very
proud
of
Andrew
if
he
got
a
scholarship
,
he
said
.
She
would
be
just
as
proud
of
him
if
he
did
n't
,
she
answered
.
They
disagreed
always
about
this
,
but
it
did
not
matter
.
She
liked
him
to
believe
in
scholarships
,
and
he
liked
her
to
be
proud
of
Andrew
whatever
he
did
.
Suddenly
she
remembered
those
little
paths
on
the
edge
of
the
cliffs
.
Was
n't
it
late
?
she
asked
.
They
had
n't
come
home
yet
.
He
flicked
his
watch
carelessly
open
.
But
it
was
only
just
past
seven
.
He
held
his
watch
open
for
a
moment
,
deciding
that
he
would
tell
her
what
he
had
felt
on
the
terrace
.
To
begin
with
,
it
was
not
reasonable
to
be
so
nervous
.
Andrew
could
look
after
himself
.
Then
,
he
wanted
to
tell
her
that
when
he
was
walking
on
the
terrace
just
now
--
here
he
became
uncomfortable
,
as
if
he
were
breaking
into
that
solitude
,
that
aloofness
,
that
remoteness
of
hers
...
But
she
pressed
him
.
What
had
he
wanted
to
tell
her
,
she
asked
,
thinking
it
was
about
going
to
the
Lighthouse
;
that
he
was
sorry
he
had
said
"
Damn
you
.
"
But
no
.
He
did
not
like
to
see
her
look
so
sad
,
he
said
.
Only
wool
gathering
,
she
protested
,
flushing
a
little
.
They
both
felt
uncomfortable
,
as
if
they
did
not
know
whether
to
go
on
or
go
back
.
She
had
been
reading
fairy
tales
to
James
,
she
said
.
No
,
they
could
not
share
that
;
they
could
not
say
that
.
