143Sympathy - sympathyIt was as if Mrs. Ramsay, who had been sitting loosely folding her son inher arm, ?now braced herself, & half turning, seemed to raise herself,& at once towith an effort, to pour out in beg?cit in begin ppouring out a rain of energy, a fountain of life, a column ofa spray a compound of her mind her emotion & some thing sovital to herself that then in that instant, she seemed tofusingbe herself, alive to the core &spending all her energy in oneintoblaze; it was into this blaze of fecundity that&like a beak ofbrass, like somethingwhich is barren,has in it neitherwarmth of lifebut only concentrationthat the fatal sterility of the male plunged itself.Mr. Ramsay steeped himself again & again in it.His He fell, James felt, like an eagle upon them;requiredHe was not aMr. Ramsay demanded to be assured that he wasshe assured himButnot a failure; & more than thatthat he was to havthen to be taken withinwas desired & treasured &within the circle of like & notoutside it, ?perched like snow on a mountain top; herequired that his barrenness should be made fertile, &his senses restored to him; & his functions restored, thathe should be made whole, & that this immense strength of hisshould be made fruitful, brought into alliance withHe wanted the room to be full of life, & behind the room, thekitchen, above the kitchen, the bedroom,the nurseries; allto be full of life, in which hecould steep hisbarrenness.There was

Had she not askedCharles Tansley down, on purposethat he might & did he not who thought him soMrs. Ramsay, still pouring out gaily, with laughterindeed, flashing her needles to & fro, gallantlycreated the whole world,& James standing stillbetween her knees, knew feltthat all the strength wasflaring up to be gashed &drunk & devouredby the br beak of brass, the arid scimitar of themalesmotewhichswooped on her, again, again, again,demanding sympathy
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