TO THE LIGHTHOUSEbeing depressed by something William had said;the birds in the trees; the sofa on the landing;the children being awake; Charles Tansley wakingthem with his books falling—oh no, that she hadinvented; and Paul having a wash-leather case forhis watch. Which should she tell him about?"They’re engaged," she said, beginning toknit, "Paul and Minta.""So I guessed," he said. There was nothingvery much to be said about it. Her mind was stillgoing up and down, up and down with the poetry;he was still feeling very vigorous, very forthright,after reading about Steenie’s funeral. So they satsilent. Then she became aware that she wantedhim to say something.Anything, anything, she thought, going onwith her knitting. Anything will do.
"How nice it would be to marry a man with awash-leather bag for his watch," she said, for thatwas the sort of joke they had together.
He snorted. He felt about this engagementas he always felt about any engagement; the girlis much too good for that young man. Slowly itcame into her head, why is it then that one wantspeople to marry? What was the value, themeaning of things? (Every word they said nowwould be true.) Do say something, she thought,wishing only to hear his voice. For the shadow,188