To THE L1GHTHoUsEtools; how she stood here painting, had nevermarried, not even William Bankes.

Mrs. Ramsay had planned it. Perhaps, hadshe lived, she would have compelled it. Alreadythat summer he was “the kindest of men ”. Hewas “ the first scientist of his age, my husbandsays". He was also "poor William——it makesme so unhappy, when I go to see him, to findnothing nice in his house—no one to arrange thefiowers". So they were sent for walks together,and she was told, with that faint touch of ironythat made Mrs. Ramsay slip through one's Hngers,that she had a scientific mind; she liked Bowers;she was so exact. What was this mania of hersfor marriage? Lily wondered, stepping to andfro from her easel.

(Suddenly, as suddenly as a star slides in thesky, a reddish light seemed to burn in her mind,covering Paul Rayley, issuing from him. It roselike a fire sent up in token of some celebration bysavages on a distant beach. She heard the roarand the crackle. The whole sea for miles roundran red and gold. Some winy smell mixed withit and intoxicated her, for she felt again her ownheadlong desire to throw herself off the cliH’ andbe drowned looking for a pearl brooch on a beach.And the roar and the crackle repelled her with fearand disgust, as if while she saw its splendour and270

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