T0 THE LIGHTHOUSEon a bare rock. It satisfied him. It confirmedsome obscure feeling of his about his own char·acter. The old ladies, he thought, thinking of thegarden at home, went dragging their chairs abouton the lawn. Old Mrs. Beckwith, for example,was always saying how nice it was and how sweetit was and how .they ought to be so proud andthey ought to be so happy, but as a matter of factjames thought, looking at the Lighthouse stoodthere on its rock, it’s like that. He looked at hisfather reading fiercely with his legs curled tight.They shared that knowledge. “ We are drivingbefore a gale——we must sink," he began saying tohimself, half aloud exactly as his father said it.

Nobody seemed to have spoken for an age.Cam was tired of looking at the sea. Little bitsof black cork had floated past; the fish were deadin the bottom of the boat. Still her father read,and james looked at him and she looked at him,and they vowed that they would fight tyranny tothe dea_th, and he went on reading quite unconscious of what they thought. It was thus thathe escaped, she thought. Yes, with his greatforehead and his great nose, holding his littlemottled book firmly in front of him, he escaped.You might try to lay hands on him, but then likea bird, he spread his wings, he floated off to settleout of your reach somewhere far away on some312

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