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277But did one not always like peoplewhen one looked at them?grey blueShe must admit that his eyes were good: he had honest eyes.

"Do you write many letters, Mr. Tansley?" saidMrs. Ramsay pitying him too, Lily supposed; for that was trueof Mrs. Ramsay: she pitied men always as if they lacked& neverneversomething; nev not she did not pity women, as if they hadsomething. Yet it was the other way round; women had nothingpowermen everything - consideredfor the material point of view,office,Butit was very likeeverything wereso mucheasiermenformoney, education; & so had all that instantly.It all,it was part ofMrs. Ramsay

He wrote to his mother; but otherwise he did not writeto anybody, Mr. Tansley said

For he was not going to talk the sort of rot these peoplewanted him to talk. Having finished his ch vo voltwo of Sorel before dinner, he had wedged in a chapter ofHarry Richmond & was not going to be condescended to bythese upper middle class women;[?]whom he despised.Whatdid they know of anything?"One never gets anything worth having byhe ?should [?] inworth havingthe post" - that was true.They never got anything from oneyears end to another. They exist live the most useless of lives;&His own mother did moreThey did not know thewithmeaning of work. talk, talk, talk; other women waiting onthem; & they despisedIt was women who made civilisation impossible.He despised women more & more.

"No going to the Lighthouse tomorrow, Mrs.Ramsay" he said, half turning in his chair, as if toconfirm his weath forecast.of the weather.

He was really,Lily Briscoe thought, the mostuncharming human being she had ever met.And soWhy, then,did one mindwhat he said?Oh, she remembered,Shakespeare - that is to say, she had momentarily forgotten inin her own elation, how wo about women not beingcreative, & men being creative; & Charles Tansley thereforebeing quite within his rights when he told maintained thatto talk down to her; to say what was the use of her ?painting?