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Mr. Bankes was saying that he had been to Amsterdam. Hehad seen the Rembrandts. He had been to Madrid. Unfortunately,it was Good Friday, & he had not see the Prado.He had been toRome. Had Miss Briscoe never been to Rome? Oh she shouldtry to go to Rome. It would be a wonderful experience for her -the Sistine Chapel; Michael Angelo: & Siena, with its car Giottos.His wife having been a great invalid, & in bad health for somany years, their sightseeing had been on a modest scale; but?She had been to Brussels; she had been to Paris; but onlyfor a flying visit; she had been to Dresden, said Lily.But perhaps it was better not to see pictures, she said. They madeit seem one's own pictures seem so foolish.But sodepressed withone's own workBankes thought one might carry that point of view to excess.We cannot all be Darwins or Titians.On the other handto some extentyour Darwin is dependsupon your little nonentity whohas done the spade work for him.Whether that applied to art,Mr. Bankes could not say.Lily thought that saidthat anyhow it made no difference - one would alwaysgo on painting. Mr. Bankes was about to ask her whether shehad much difficulty in findingsubjects in London -when they reachedthe end of the lawn,& turned, & saw theRamsays

"Well, said Lily, observing the Ramsays, "in the winter oneeither did can do sketches."Mrs. Ramsay was wearing that a green shawl; she was&

her husbands armholding it up with one,hand, so that it fell in folds, whichbeing quite accidental, sheit fell in folds; & wassomehow the whole group(they had paused to look atPrue & Jasper, tossing catches?wore for a second somepair of them, coming slowly upthe drive, arm in arm,