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93Jan. 18th1926That loveliness So Lily Briscoe & William Bankesstanding there felt in spite of their differences, a commonhilarity, for a expressed excited by the swift cuttingskating movement of a b b sailing boat which,having sliced a curve in the bay, stoppedshivered, lets its sails fall; & then, Mr. Bankes,with a natural instinct, wh which led them toafter this swift movement, both of them looked at thedunes, far away, & instead of merriment felt come overthem some thing like sadness. Yet why? Was It wasgrey green partly the grey green colour, & then thedistance; & the everlasting look of distant viewswhich seem to outlast by a million years the gazer;to be already communing with a sky whichlook beholds an earth entirely at rest. Only,William Bankes, who had been talking of Ramsay,thought of him; thought of him, of course, long long ago,desolate & austere on a mountain road somewhere inWestmoreland, advancing by himself into the heartof th that solitude which seemed to be his?airnatural to him; only which was suddenly interruptedhung aroundwith(& this must actually have happened) by ahen, advancing [?] down a path, straddling her wings out inprotection of a whole covey of little chicks, uponwhich Ramsay had pointed his stick & said"Pretty - pretty" - an odd illumination into his heart,Bankes thought it; & somehow it seemed to him as iftheir friendship had ceased at a certain spot onthe mountain road. After that Ramsay hadmarried. After that, what with one thing or another,the pulp had gone out of their intimacy. Whosefault it was, he could not say, only, after a point,some repetition had taken the place of freshness; &thoughnewnessfor showing himtender & simple,&with thatlove of humb thehumble, thegenuine, wh.was