THE LIGHTHOUSEtelligence which had pleased her and comforted herenormously. One could talk of painting then se-riously to a man. Indeed, his friendship had been oneof the pleasures of her life. She loved WilliamBankes.

They went to Hampton Court and he always lefther, like the perfect gentleman he was, plenty oftime to wash her hands, while he strolled by theriver. That was typical of their relationship. Manythings were left unsaid. Then they strolled throughthe courtyards, and admired, summer after summer,the proportions and the flowers, and he would tellher things, about perspective, about architecture,as they walked, and he would stop to look at a tree,or the view over the lake, and admire a child—(itwas his great grief—he had no daughter) in thevague aloof way that was natural to a man whospent so much time in laboratories that the worldwhen he came out seemed to dazzle him, so that hewalked slowly, lifted his hand to screen his eyesand paused, with his head thrown back, merelyto breathe the air. Then he would tell her how hishousekeeper was on her holiday; he must buy a newcarpet for the staircase. Perhaps she would go withhim to buy a new carpet for the staircase. And oncesomething led him to talk about the Ramsays andhe had said how when he first saw her she had been263
Resize Images  

Select Pane

Berg Materials

View Pane