THE WINDOWneither of those could one send to the Lighthouse.At a certain moment, she supposed, the housewould become so shabby that something must bedone. If they could be taught to wipe their feetand not bring the beach in with them—thatwould be something. Crabs, she had to allow, ifAndrew really wished to dissect them, or if Jasperoutset gal10HB: lassoed in pencil with galley marker —saraheilefsonbelieved that one could make soup from seaweed,one HB: lassoed in pencil with galley marker  could not prevent it; or Rose’s objects—shells, reeds, stones;[∧]forthey were gifted, herchildren, but all in quite different ways. And theresult of it all[%]was, she sighed, taking in the wholeroom from floor to ceiling, holdingas she heldVW: marginal addition to replace “holding.” —saraheilefsonthe stockingagainst James’s leg, with a quick glance,[∧][%]thatthingsgot shabbier and got shabbier summer aftersummer. The mat was fading; the wall-paperwas flapping. You couldn’t tell any more thatthose were roses[∧]on it. Still, if every door in a house isleft perpetually open, and no lockmaker in thewhole of Scotland can mend a bolt, things mustspoil. What was the use of flinging a greenCashmere shawl over the edge of a picture frame?In two weeks it would be the color of pea soup.But it was the doors that annoyed her; eEVW: Capital “E” double underlined. —saraheilefsonvery doorwas left open. She listened. The drawing-roomdoor was open; the hall door was open; itsounded as if the bedroom doors were open; andcertainly the window on the landing was open,47
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