TO THE LIGHTHOUSEmore, and this time soetmmethingin the tone wouldrouse her, and she would go to him, leaving themall of a sudden, and they would walk off togetheramong the pear trees, the cabbages, and theraspberry 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 hidetheir curiosity and their discomfort (it was too[%]private, this, for them to see), and begin pickingflowers, throwing balls, chattering, until it wastime for dinner, and there they were, he at oneend of the table, she at the other, as usual.

“Why don’t some of you take up botany? . . .With all those legs and arms why doesn’t one ofyou . . .?” So they would talk as usual, laugh-ing, 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 theusual sight of the children sitting round theirsoup plates had freshened itself in their eyes afterthat hour among the pears and the cabbages.Especially, Lily thought, Mrs. Ramsay wouldglance at Prue. She sat in the middle betweenbrothers and sisters, always so[%]occupied, itseemed, seeing that nothing went wrong [∧]sothat shescarcely spoke herself. How Prue must haveblamed herself for that earwig in the milk! How310
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