Minta was bored by hares, Lily thought. But Mintanever gave herself away. She never said things likethat about playing chess in coffee-houses. She was fartoo conscious, far too wary. But to go on with theirstory — they had got through the dangerous stage bynow. She had been staying with them last summersome time and the car broke down and Minta had tohand him his tools. He sat on the road mending thecar, and it was the way she gave him the tools —business-like, straightforward, friendly — that provedit was all right now. They were ‘in love’ no longer;no, he had taken up with another woman, a seriouswoman, with her hair in a plait and a case in her hand(Minta had described her gratefully, almost admiring-ly), who went to meetings and shared Paul’s views(they had got more and more pronounced) about thetaxation of land values and a capital levy. Far frombreaking up the marriage, that alliance had rightedit. They were excellent friends, obviously, as he saton the road and she handed him his tools.

So that was the story of the Rayleys, Lily smiled.She imagined herself telling it to Mrs. Ramsay, whowould be full of curiosity to know what had becomeof the Rayleys. She would feel a little triumphant,telling Mrs. Ramsay that the marriage had not beena success.

But the dead, thought Lily, encountering some ob-stacle in her design which made her pause and ponder,stepping back a foot or so, Oh the dead! she mur-mured, one pitied them, one brushed them aside, onehad even a little contempt for them. They are at ourmercy. Mrs. Ramsay has faded and gone, she thought.We can over-ride her wishes, improve away her limit-202