TO THE LIGHTHOUSEsimpler form,VW: Comma not physically cancelled[%]was happening for the first time,perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, eventhough he is half asleep, must rub a space on thewindow,VW: incomplete cancellation.knows, looking out of the train,VW: The caret follows the comma, though the intent must have been to insert “window” before the comma.[∧]windowthat hemust look now, for he will never see that town,or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in thefields, again. The lawn was the world; they wereup here together, on this exalted station, shethought, looking at old Mr. Carmichael, whoseemed (though they had not said a word all thistime) to share her thoughts. And she wouldnever see him again perhaps. He was growingold. Also, she remembered, smiling at the slipperthat dangled from his foot, he was growingfamous. People said that his poetry was "sobeautitul![%]They went and published things hehad written forty years ago. There was a famousman now called Carmichael, she smiled, thinkinghow many shapes one person might wear, how hewas that in the newspapers, but here the same ashe had always been. He looked the same—greyer, rather. Yes, he looked the same, butsomebody had said, she recalled, that when hehad heard of Andrew Ramsay’s death (he waskilled in a second by a shell; he should have beena great mathematician) Mr. Carmichael had "lostall interest in life." What did it mean—that?she wondered. Had he marched through Tra-300
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