TO THE LIGHTHOUSEonly to be like other people, insignificant. He didnot know. He did not know. He must go to his work.)

Knitting her reddish-brown hairy stocking, withher head outlined absurdly by the gilt frame, thegreen shawl which she had tossed over the edgeof the frame, and the authenticated masterpiece byMichael Angelo, Mrs. Ramsay smoothed out whathad been harsh in her manner a moment before,raised his head, and kissed her little boy on theforehead. "Let us find another picture to cut out,"she said.VI

But what had happened?

Some one had blundered.

Starting from her musing she gave meaning towords which she had held meaningless in her mindfor a long stretch of time. "Some one had blun-dered—" Fixing her short-sighted eyes upon herhusband, who was now bearing down upon her, shegazed steadily until his closeness revealed to her(the jingle mated itself in her head) that something had happened, some one had blundered. Butshe could not for the life of her think what.

He shivered; he quivered. All his vanity, all hissatisfaction in his own splendour, riding fell as a48
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