T0 THE LIGHTHOUSEsaying anything about itl It meant to him theannihilation of womanhood, and dirt and disorder,and servants leaving and beds not made at midday—all the things he most abhorred. He hada way of shuddering and spreading his fi-ngers outas if to cover an unsightly object, which he didnow——holding his hand in front of him. AndMinta walked on ahead, and presumably Paulmet her and she went of? with Paul in the garden.

The Rayleys, thought Lily Briscoe, squeezingher tube of green paint. She collected her impressions of the Rayleys. Their lives appearedto her in a series of scenes; one, on the staircaseat dawn. Paul had come in and gone to bed early;Minta was late. There was Minta, wreathed,tinted, garish on the stairs about three o’clock inthe morning. Paul came out in his pyjamascarrying a poker in case of burglars. Minta waseating a sandwich, standing half-way up by awindow,‘in the cadaverous early morning light,and the carpet had a hole in it. But what did theysay? Lily asked herselii as if by looking she couldhear them. Something violent. Minta went oneating her sandwich, annoyingly, while he spoke.He spoke indignant, jealous words, abusing her,in a mutter so as not to wake the children, thetwo little boys. He was withered, drawn; sheflamboyant, careless. For things had worked266

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