THE WINDOWbeginning to mend the greenhouse. Yes, but asshe strolled along with her husband, she felt thatthat particular source of worry had been placed.She had it on the tip of her tongue to say, as theystrolled, "It'll cost fifty pounds“, but instead, forher heart failed her about money, she talked aboutJasper shooting birds, and he said, at once, sooth-ing her instantly, that it was natural in a boy, andhe trusted he would find better ways of amusinggal26himself before long. HeHerhusbandwas so sensible, so just.And so she said, "Yes; all children go throughstages," and began considering the dahlias in thebig bed, and wondering what about next year’sflowers, and had he heard the children’s nicknamefor Charles Tansley, she asked. The atheist, theycalled him, the little atheist. "He's not a polishedspecimen," said Mr. Ramsay. "Far from it,"said Mrs. Ramsay.

She supposed it was all right leaving him tohis own devices, Mrs. Ramsay said, wonderingwhether it was any use sending down bulbs; didthey plant them? "Oh, he has his dissertation towrite," said Mr. Ramsay. She knew all aboutthat,italsaid Mrs. Ramsay. He talked of nothingelse. It was about the influence of somebody uponsomething. "Well, it’s all he has to count on,"said Mr. Ramsay. "Pray Heaven he won't fallin love with Prue,” said Mrs. Ramsay. He’d105
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