TO THE LIGHTHOUSEmutilated body (it was alive still) was thrown backinto the sea.)]8“Mrs. Ramsay!" Lily cried, "Mrs. Ramsay!”But nothing happened. The pain increased.gal70That HB: Black pencil mark with line to margin indicating beginning of galley 70.anguish could reduce one to such a pitch ofimbecility, she thought! Anyhow the old manhad not heard her. He remained benignant,calm—if one chose to think it, sublime. Heavenbe praised, no one had heard her cry that igno-minious cry, stop pain, stop! She had notobviously taken leave of her senses. No one hadseen her step off her strip of board into the watersof annihilation. She remained a skimpy old maid,holding a paint-brush.

And now slowly the pain of the want, and thebitter anger (to be called back, just as she thoughtshe would never feel sorrow for Mrs. Ramsayagain, testing it at breakfast.[%]Had she missed heramong the coffee cups[∧]VW: The caret, it appears, inadvertently crossed the “s”.atbreakfast? not in the least) lessened;and of their anguish left, as antidote, a relief thatwas balm in itself, and also, but more mysteriously,a sense of some one there, of Mrs. Ramsay, re-lieved for a moment of the weight that the worldhad put on her, staying lightly by her side andthen (for this was Mrs. Ramsay in all her beauty)raising to her forehead a wreath of white flowers278
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