TO THE LIGHTHOUSEa fountain of white water; and then, while onewaited for that, one watched, on the pale semicir-cular beach, wave after wave shedding again andagain smoothly, a film of mother of pearl.

They both smiled, standing there. They both felta common hilarity, excited by the moving waves;and then by the swift cutting race of a sailing boat,which, having sliced a curve in the bay, stopped;shivered; let its sails drop down; and then, with anatural instinct to complete the picture, after thisswift movement, both of them looked at the dunesfar away, and instead of merriment felt come overthem some sadness—because the thing was com-pleted partly, and partly because distant views seemto outlast by a million years (Lily thought) thegazer and to be communing already with a skywhich beholds an earth entirely at rest.

Looking at the far sand hills, William Bankesthought of Ramsay: thought of a road in West-morland, thought of Ramsay striding along a roadby himself hung round with that solitude whichseemed to be his natural air. But this was suddenlyinterrupted, William Bankes remembered (and thismust refer to some actual incident), by a hen,straddling her wings out in protection of a coveyof little chicks, upon which Ramsay, stopping,pointed his stick and said "Pretty—pretty," an odd34
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