TO THE LIGHTHOUSECharles Tansley waking them with his books falling— oh no, that she had invented; and Paul having awash-leather case for his watch. Which should shetell him about?‘They’re engaged,’ she said, beginning to knit,‘Paul and Minta.’‘So I guessed,’ he said. There was nothing verymuch to be said about it. Her mind was still going upand down, up and down with the poetry; he was stillfeeling very vigorous, very forthright, after readingabout Steenie’s funeral. So they sat silent. Then shebecame aware that she wanted him to say something.Anything, anything, she thought, going on with herknitting. Anything will do.‘How nice it would be to marry a man with a wash-leather bag for his watch,’ she said, for that was thesort of joke they had together.He snorted. He felt about this engagement as he al-ways felt about any engagement; the girl is much toogood for that young man. Slowly it came into herhead, why is it then that one wants people to marry?What was the value, the meaning of things? (Everyword they said now would be true.) Do say something,she thought, wishing only to hear his voice. For theshadow, the thing folding them in was beginning, shefelt, to close round her again. Say anything, shebegged, looking at him, as if for help.He was silent, swinging the compass on his watch-chain to and fro, and thinking of Scott’s novels andBalzac’s novels. But through the crepuscular walls oftheir intimacy, for they were drawing together, invol-untarily, coming side by side, quite close, she couldfeel his mind like a raised hand shadowing her mind;144
