THE w1NDoWShe clenched her fist. She stamped. And Mr.Bankes felt aged and saddened and somehow putinto the wrong by her about his friendship. Hemust have dried and shrunk.

The Ramsays were not rich, and it was awonder how they managed to contrive it all.Eight children! To feed eight children onphilosophy! Here was another of them, jasperthis time, strolling past, to have a shot at a bird,he said, nonchalantly, swinging Lily’s hand like apump—handle as he passed, which caused Mr.Bankes to say, bitterly, how she was a favourite.There was education now to be considered (true,Mrs. Ramsay had something of her own perhaps)let· alone the daily wear and tear of shoes andstockings which those “ great fellows ", all wellgrown, angular, ruthless youngsters, must require.As for being sure which was which, or in whatorder they came, that was beyond him. He calledthem privately after the Kings and Queens ofEngland; Cam the Wicked, fames the Ruthless,Andrew the ]ust, Prue the Fair—for Prue wouldhave beauty, he thought, how could she help it?and Andrew brains. VVhile he walked up thedrive and Lily Briscoe said yes and no and cappedhis comments (for she was in love with them all,in love with this world) he weighed Ramsay’s case,Gommiserated him, envied him, as if he had seen39

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