TO THE LIGHTHOUSElooked astonishingly young, teasing Minta). For her-self — ‘Put it down there,’ she said, helping the Swissgirl to place gently before her the huge brown potin which was the Bœuf en Daube — for her ownpart she liked her boobies. Paul must sit by her. Shehad kept a place for him. Really, she sometimesthought she liked the boobies best. They did notbother one with their dissertations. How much theymissed, after all, these very clever men! How driedup they did become, to be sure. There was some-thing, she thought as he sat down, very charmingabout Paul. His manners were delightful to her, andhis sharp cut nose and his bright blue eyes. He wasso considerate. Would he tell her — now that theywere all talking again — what had happened?

‘We went back to look for Minta’s brooch,’ hesaid, sitting down by her. ‘We’ — that was enough.She knew from the effort, the rise in his voice tosurmount a difficult word that it was the first timehe had said ‘we’. ‘We’ did this, ‘we’ did that. They’llsay that all their lives, she thought, and an exquisitescent of olives and oil and juice rose from the greatbrown dish as Marthe, with a little flourish, took thecover off. The cook had spent three days over thatdish. And she must take great care, Mrs. Ramsaythought, diving into the soft mass, to choose a speciallytender piece for William Bankes. And she peered intothe dish, with its shiny walls and its confusion ofsavoury brown and yellow meats, and its bay leavesand its wine, and thought, This will celebrate theoccasion — a curious sense rising in her, at oncefreakish and tender, of celebrating a festival, as iftwo emotions were called up in her, one profound —118
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