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But
it
would
be
a
mistake
,
she
thought
,
thinking
how
they
walked
off
together
,
arm
in
arm
,
past
the
greenhouse
,
to
simplify
their
relationship
.
It
was
no
monotony
of
bliss
--
she
with
her
impulses
and
quicknesses
;
he
with
his
shudders
and
glooms
.
Oh
,
no
.
The
bedroom
door
would
slam
violently
early
in
the
morning
.
He
would
start
from
the
table
in
a
temper
.
He
would
whizz
his
plate
through
the
window
.
Then
all
through
the
house
there
would
be
a
sense
of
doors
slamming
and
blinds
fluttering
,
as
if
a
gusty
wind
were
blowing
and
people
scudded
about
trying
in
a
hasty
way
to
fasten
hatches
and
make
things
ship-shape
.
She
had
met
Paul
Rayley
like
that
one
day
on
the
stairs
.
They
had
laughed
and
laughed
,
like
a
couple
of
children
,
all
because
Mr.
Ramsay
,
finding
an
earwig
in
his
milk
at
breakfast
had
sent
the
whole
thing
flying
through
the
air
on
to
the
terrace
outside
.
"
An
earwig
"
,
Prue
murmured
,
awestruck
,
"
in
his
milk
.
"
Other
people
might
find
centipedes
.
But
he
had
built
round
him
such
a
fence
of
sanctity
,
and
occupied
the
space
with
such
a
demeanour
of
majesty
that
an
earwig
in
his
milk
was
a
monster
.
But
it
tired
Mrs.
Ramsay
,
it
cowed
her
a
little
--
the
plates
whizzing
and
the
doors
slamming
.
And
there
would
fall
between
them
sometimes
long
rigid
silences
,
when
,
in
a
state
of
mind
which
annoyed
Lily
in
her
,
half
plaintive
,
half
resentful
,
she
seemed
unable
to
surmount
the
tempest
calmly
,
or
to
laugh
as
they
laughed
,
but
in
her
weariness
perhaps
concealed
something
.
She
brooded
and
sat
silent
.
After
a
time
he
would
hang
stealthily
about
the
places
where
she
was
--
roaming
under
the
window
where
she
sat
writing
letters
or
talking
,
for
she
would
take
care
to
be
busy
when
he
passed
,
and
evade
him
,
and
pretend
not
to
see
him
.
Then
he
would
turn
smooth
as
silk
,
affable
,
urbane
,
and
try
to
win
her
so
.
Still
she
would
hold
off
,
and
now
she
would
assert
for
a
brief
season
some
of
those
prides
and
airs
the
due
of
her
beauty
which
she
was
generally
utterly
without
;
would
turn
her
head
;
would
look
so
,
over
her
shoulder
,
always
with
some
Minta
,
Paul
,
or
William
Bankes
at
her
side
.
At
length
,
standing
outside
the
group
the
very
figure
of
a
famished
wolfhound
(
Lily
got
up
off
the
grass
and
stood
looking
at
the
steps
,
at
the
window
,
where
she
had
seen
him
)
,
he
would
say
her
name
,
once
only
,
for
all
the
world
like
a
wolf
barking
in
the
snow
,
but
still
she
held
back
;
and
he
would
say
it
once
more
,
and
this
time
something
in
the
tone
would
rouse
her
,
and
she
would
go
to
him
,
leaving
them
all
of
a
sudden
,
and
they
would
walk
off
together
among
the
pear
trees
,
the
cabbages
,
and
the
raspberry
beds
.
They
would
have
it
out
together
.
But
with
what
attitudes
and
with
what
words
?
Such
a
dignity
was
theirs
in
this
relationship
that
,
turning
away
,
she
and
Paul
and
Minta
would
hide
their
curiosity
and
their
discomfort
,
and
begin
picking
flowers
,
throwing
balls
,
chattering
,
until
it
was
time
for
dinner
,
and
there
they
were
,
he
at
one
end
of
the
table
,
she
at
the
other
,
as
usual
.
"
Why
do
n't
some
of
you
take
up
botany
?
.
.
With
all
those
legs
and
arms
why
does
n't
one
of
you
...
?
"
So
they
would
talk
as
usual
,
laughing
,
among
the
children
.
All
would
be
as
usual
,
save
only
for
some
quiver
,
as
of
a
blade
in
the
air
,
which
came
and
went
between
them
as
if
the
usual
sight
of
the
children
sitting
round
their
soup
plates
had
freshened
itself
in
their
eyes
after
that
hour
among
the
pears
and
the
cabbages
.
Especially
,
Lily
thought
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
would
glance
at
Prue
.
She
sat
in
the
middle
between
brothers
and
sisters
,
always
occupied
,
it
seemed
,
seeing
that
nothing
went
wrong
so
that
she
scarcely
spoke
herself
.
How
Prue
must
have
blamed
herself
for
that
earwig
in
the
milk
!
How
white
she
had
gone
when
Mr.
Ramsay
threw
his
plate
through
the
window
!
How
she
drooped
under
those
long
silences
between
them
!
Anyhow
,
her
mother
now
would
seem
to
be
making
it
up
to
her
;
assuring
her
that
everything
was
well
;
promising
her
that
one
of
these
days
that
same
happiness
would
be
hers
.
She
had
enjoyed
it
for
less
than
a
year
,
however
.
She
had
let
the
flowers
fall
from
her
basket
,
Lily
thought
,
screwing
up
her
eyes
and
standing
back
as
if
to
look
at
her
picture
,
which
she
was
not
touching
,
however
,
with
all
her
faculties
in
a
trance
,
frozen
over
superficially
but
moving
underneath
with
extreme
speed
.
She
let
her
flowers
fall
from
her
basket
,
scattered
and
tumbled
them
on
to
the
grass
and
,
reluctantly
and
hesitatingly
,
but
without
question
or
complaint
--
had
she
not
the
faculty
of
obedience
to
perfection
?
--
went
too
.
Down
fields
,
across
valleys
,
white
,
flower-strewn
--
that
was
how
she
would
have
painted
it
.
The
hills
were
austere
.
It
was
rocky
;
it
was
steep
.
The
waves
sounded
hoarse
on
the
stones
beneath
.
They
went
,
the
three
of
them
together
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
walking
rather
fast
in
front
,
as
if
she
expected
to
meet
some
one
round
the
corner
.
Suddenly
the
window
at
which
she
was
looking
was
whitened
by
some
light
stuff
behind
it
.
At
last
then
somebody
had
come
into
the
drawing-room
;
somebody
was
sitting
in
the
chair
.
For
Heaven
's
sake
,
she
prayed
,
let
them
sit
still
there
and
not
come
floundering
out
to
talk
to
her
.
Mercifully
,
whoever
it
was
stayed
still
inside
;
had
settled
by
some
stroke
of
luck
so
as
to
throw
an
odd-shaped
triangular
shadow
over
the
step
.
It
altered
the
composition
of
the
picture
a
little
.
It
was
interesting
.
It
might
be
useful
.
Her
mood
was
coming
back
to
her
.
One
must
keep
on
looking
without
for
a
second
relaxing
the
intensity
of
emotion
,
the
determination
not
to
be
put
off
,
not
to
be
bamboozled
.
One
must
hold
the
scene
--
so
--
in
a
vise
and
let
nothing
come
in
and
spoil
it
.
One
wanted
,
she
thought
,
dipping
her
brush
deliberately
,
to
be
on
a
level
with
ordinary
experience
,
to
feel
simply
that
's
a
chair
,
that
's
a
table
,
and
yet
at
the
same
time
,
It
's
a
miracle
,
it
's
an
ecstasy
.
The
problem
might
be
solved
after
all
.
Ah
,
but
what
had
happened
?
Some
wave
of
white
went
over
the
window
pane
.
The
air
must
have
stirred
some
flounce
in
the
room
.
Her
heart
leapt
at
her
and
seized
her
and
tortured
her
.
"
Mrs.
Ramsay
!
Mrs.
Ramsay
!
"
she
cried
,
feeling
the
old
horror
come
back
--
to
want
and
want
and
not
to
have
