TO THE LIGHTHOUSEalmost jumped out of her skin. But then,Mrs. Ramsay, though instantly taking his sideagainst all the silly Giddingses in the world, then,she thought, intimating by a little pressure on hisarm that he walked up hill too fast for her, andshe must stop for a moment to see whether thosewere fresh mole—hills on the bank, then, shethought, stooping down to look, a great mindlike his must be different in every way from ours.All the great men she had ever known, shethought, deciding that a rabbit must have got in,were like that, and it was good for young men(though the atmosphere of lecture-rooms wasstuffy and depressing to her beyond endurancealmost) simply to hear him, simply to look at him.But without shooting rabbits, how was one tokeep them down? she wondered. It might bea rabbit; it might be a mole. Some creatureanyhow was ruining her Evening Primroses.And looking up, she saw above the thin trees thefirst pulse of the full—throbbing star, and wantedto make her husband look at it; for the sight gaveher such keen pleasure. But she stopped herself.He never looked at things. If he did, all hewould say would be, Poor little world, with one ofhis sighs.

At that moment, he said, “ Very fine," toplease her, and pretended to admire the flowers.1 I 2