TO THE LIGHTHOUSEseemed set in its blue, so much depends, shethought, upon distance: whether people are nearus or far from us; for her feeling for Mr. Ramsaychanged as he sailed further and further acrossthe bay. It seemed to be elongated, stretched out;he seemed to become more and more remote. Heand his children seemed to be swallowed up inthat blue, that distance; but here, on the lawn,close at hand, Mr. Carmichael suddenly grunted,. VW: The mark following “grunted” appears to be a raised period. VW’s clarifying period in margin is circled.She laughed. He clawed his book up from thegrass. He settled into his chair again puffing andblowing like some sea monster. That was differentaltogether, because he was so near. And nowagain all was quiet. They must be out of bed bythis time, she supposed, looking at the house, butnothing appeared there. But then, she remem-bered, they had always made off directly a mealwas over, on business of their own. It was all inkeeping with this silence, this emptiness, and theunreality of the early morning hour. It was a waythings had sometimes, she thought, lingering for amoment and looking at the long glittering windowsand the plume of blue smoke: they becameunreal. So coming back from a journey, or afteran illness, before habits had spun themselvesacross the surface, one felt that same unreality,which was so startling; felt something emerge.Life was most vivid then. One could be at one’s296
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