TO THE LIGHTHOUSEshe never even thought of asking herself what it was.Of course it was impossible for her to go withthem. But she would have liked to go, had it notbeen for the other thing, and tickled by the absurd-ity of her thought (how lucky to marry a man witha wash-leather bag for his watch) she went with asmile on her lips into the other room, where herhusband sat reading.XIX

Of course, she said to herself, coming into theroom, she had to come here to get something shewanted. First she wanted to sit down in a particularchair under a particular lamp. But she wanted some-thing more, though she did not know, could not thinkwhat it was that she wanted. She looked at her hus-band (taking up her stocking and beginning toknit), and saw that he did not want to be inter-rupted—that was clear. He was reading somethingthat moved him very much. He was half smiling andthen she knew he was controlling his emotion. Hewas tossing the pages over. He was acting it—per-haps he was thinking himself the person in the book.She wondered what book it was. Oh, it was one ofold Sir Walter’s she saw, adjusting the shade of herlamp so that the light fell on her knitting. For176

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