TO THE LIGHTHOUSEthought Mr. Ramsay, should she look at the seawhen I am here? She hoped it would be calm enoughfor them to land at the Lighthouse, she said. TheLighthouse! The Lighthouse! What’s that got todo with it? he thought impatiently. Instantly, withthe force of some primeval gust (for really he couldnot restrain himself any longer), there issued fromhim such a groan that any other woman in the wholeworld would have done something, said something—all except myself, thought Lily, girding at herselfbitterly, who am not a woman, but a peevish, ill-tempered, dried-up old maid, presumably.

Mr. Ramsay sighed to the full. He waited. Wasshe not going to say anything? Did she not see whathe wanted from her? Then he said he had a partic-ular reason for wanting to go to the Lighthouse. Hiswife used to send the men things. There was a poorboy with a tuberculous hip, the lightkeeper’s son.He sighed profoundly. He sighed significantly. AllLily wished was that this enormous flood of grief,this insatiable hunger for sympathy, this demandthat she should surrender herself up to him en-tirely, and even so he had sorrows enough to keepher supplied for ever, should leave her, should bediverted (she kept looking at the house, hoping foran interruption) before it swept her down in itsflow.226

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