But he pulled himself up. Whenever he said'they’ or ‘a person,' and then began hearing therustle of someone coming, the tinkle of someonegoing, he became extremely sensitive to the presenceof whoever might be in the room. It was his fathernow. The strain became acute. For in one momentif there was no breeze, his father would slap thecovers of his book together, and say: ‘What’s hap-pening now? What are we dawdling about here for,eh?’ as, once before, he had brought his blade downamong them on the terrace and she had gone stiff allover, and if there had been an axe handy, a knife, oranything with a sharp point he would have seized itand struck his father through the heart. His motherhad gone stiff all over, and then, her arm slackening,so that he felt she listened to him no longer, she hadrisen somehow and gone away and left him there,impotent, ridiculous, sitting on the floor grasping apair of scissors.

Not a breath of wind blew. The water chuckledand gurgled in the bottom of the boat where threeor four mackerel beat their tails up and down in apool of water not deep enough to cover them. Atany moment Mr Ramsay (James scarcely dared lookat him) might rouse himself, shut his book, and saysomething sharp; but for the moment he was read-ing, so that James stealthily, as if he were stealingdownstairs on bare feet, afraid of waking a watch-