THE WINDOWshould look so distant, and he could not reach her, hecould do nothing to help her. And again he wouldhave passed her without a word had she not, at thatvery moment, given him of her own free will what sheknew he would never ask, and called to him and takenthe green shawl off the picture frame, and gone tohim. For he wished, she knew, to protect her.12She folded the green shawl about her shoulders. Shetook his arm. His beauty was so great, she said, be-ginning to speak of Kennedy the gardener at once; hewas so awfully handsome, that she couldn’t dismisshim. There was a ladder against the greenhouse, andlittle lumps of putty stuck about, for they were begin-ning to mend the greenhouse roof. Yes, but as shestrolled along with her husband, she felt that that par-ticular source of worry had been placed. She had it onthe tip of her tongue to say, as they strolled, ‘It’ll costfifty pounds’, but instead, for her heart failed her aboutmoney, she talked about Jasper shooting birds, andhe said, at once, soothing her instantly, that it wasnatural in a boy, and he trusted he would find betterways of amusing himself before long. Her husband wasso sensible, so just. And so she said, ‘Yes; all childrengo through stages,’ and began considering the dahliasin the big bed, and wondering what about next year’sflowers, and had he heard the children’s nickname forCharles Tansley, she asked. The atheist, they calledhim, the little atheist. ‘He’s not a polished specimen,’said Mr. Ramsay. ‘Far from it,’ said Mrs. Ramsay.She supposed it was all right leaving him to his own79
