Indeed, he almost knocked her easel over,coming down upon her with his hands wavingshouting out "Boldly we rode and well", but,mercifully, he turned sharp, and rode off, to diegloriously she supposed upon the heights ofBalaclava. Never was anybody at once so ridicu-lous and so alarming. But so long as he kept likethat, waving, shouting, she was safe; he wouldnot stand still and look at her picture.  And thatwas what Lily Briscoe could not have endured.Even while she looked at the mass, at the line, at thecolour, at Mrs. Ramsay sitting in the window withJames, she kept a feeler on her surroundings lestsomeone should creep up, and suddenly she shouldfind her picture being[%]looked at. But now, withall her senses quickened as they were, looking,straining, till the colour of the wall and thejacmanna beyond burnt into her eyes, she wasaware of someone coming out of the house,coming towards her; but somehow divined, fromthe footfall, William Bankes, so that though herbrush quivered, she did not, as she would havedone had it been Mr. Tansley, Paul Rayley,Minta Doyle, or practically anybody else, turnher canvas down[%]upon the grass, but let it stand.William Bankes stood beside her.32
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