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18191& the slamming & banging of damp-swollen wood mighthave been been seemed to be taking place, as the old womenslapped & slammed, upstairs now, now in the cellar.They drank their tea in the bathroom sometimes, sometimes in thestudy; contemplating now, the magnificent conquest of the taps &the freshly painted bath; now their more arduous &indeed more partial conq triump c triumph overinnumerable volumes of old philosophy which, black in thebeginning, were now not only puce [?] coloured & whitewith white cascades of damp, but bred little mushrooms -seret secreted spiders.Then, suddenly, her as she wiped& ba them, the telescope fitted itself of its own accord to oldMaggie's wandering eyes, & in a momentary stability she sawthe old gentleman, on the lawn. He was as lean as a rake - Heit wawas wagging his head. He Was he dead too?Some said he,Mr. Ramsayit was Mr.Ramsay.some said she He was standing on the lawn;she couldsee him now.So for a moment the little ghost, held in the charwoman's eye,revisited the lawn, wagged its head; & recalled that (who kne by somedevious faith) he a joke of Mildreds in the kitchen.She wasalwayshot tempered like all red haired women. But She saved hera plate of milk soup for Maggie. Mrs. Ramsay quite thought sheneeded it, bringing the wash up the hill every step of the wayherself.