TO THE LIGHTHOUSEthick hedge, guarded by red hot pokers likebrasiers of clear burning coal, between which theblue waters of the bay looked bluer than ever.

They came there regularly every eveningdrawn by some need. It was as if the waterfloated off and set sailing thoughts which hadgrown stagnant on dry land, and gave to theirbodies even some sort of physical relief. First,the pulse of colour flooded the bay with blue,and the heart expanded with it and the bodyswam, only the next instant to be checked andchilled by the prickly blackness on the ruffledwaves. Then, up behind the great black rock,almost every evening spurted irregularly, so thatone had to watch for it and it was a delight whenit came, a fountain of white water; and then,while one waited for that, one watched, on thepale semicircular beach, wave after wave sheddingagain and again smoothly, irresistibly[%]a film ofmother of pearl, all over the sand.[%]

They both smiled, standing there. They bothfelt a common hilarity, excited by the movingwaves; and then by the swift cutting race of asailing boat, which, having sliced a curve in thebay, stopped; shivered; let its sail drop down; andthen, with a natural instinct to complete thepicture, after this swift movement, both of themlooked at the dunes far away, and instead of36
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