THE WINDOWsomething critical. (“She isn’t altogether whatshe looks like,” she would have said.) Its humourwould have disguised the fact that s.VW: Circled period in margin cancelled. —peter.shillingsburgSVW: The marginal “S” is double underlined. —peter.shillingsburghe had beenannoyed the other night by some highhandedness.Looking along the level of Mr. Bankes’ glance ather, she thought that no woman could worshipanother woman in the way he worshipped; theycould only seek shelter under the shade whichMr. Bankes extended over them both. Lookingalong his beam she added to it her different ray,thinking that she was unquestionably the loveliestof people (bowed over her book); the bestperhaps; but also, different too from the perfectshape which one saw there. But why different,and how different? she asked herself, scrapingher palette of all those mounds of blue and greenwhich seemed to her like clods with no life inthem now, yet she vowed, she would inspire them,force them,[%]to move, to[%]flow, to[%]do her bidding[∧]tomorrowVW: Circled with line to caret. —peter.shillingsburg.How did she differ? What was the spirit in her,the essential thing, by which, had you found acrumpled glove in the corner of a sofa, you wouldhave known it, from the twist of theit’stwistedfinger, her’sindisputably? She was like a bird for speed, anarrow for directness. She was wilful; she wascommanding (of course, Lily reminded herself, Iam thinking of her relations with women, and Iam much younger, an insignificant person, living79
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