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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEseparating one thing from another; she wouldbe saying she liked the Waverley Novels or hadnot read them; she would be urging herselfforward; now she said nothing. For the momentshe hung suspended.‘ Ah, but how long do you thinkiit'll last?said somebody. It was as if she had antennaetrembling out from her, which, intercepting certain sentences, forced them upon her attention.This was one of them. She scented danger forher husband. A question like that would lead,almost certainly, to something being said whichreminded him of his own failure. How longwould he be read——he would think at once.William Bankes (who wasentirely free from allsuch vanity) laughed, and said he attached noimportance to changes in fashion. Who couldtell what was going to last——·in literature or indeedin anything else?

‘ Let us enjoy what we do enjoy," he said.His integrity seemed to Mrs. Ramsay quiteadmirable. He never seemed for a moment tothink, But how does this affect me? But thenif you had the other temperament, which musthave praise, which must have encouragement,naturally you began (and she knew that Mr.Ramsay was beginning) to be uneasy; to wantsomebody to say, Oh, but your work will last,166