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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEhanging garden; it was a valley, full of birds, andflowers, and antelopes and lovely[%]. . . . She wasfalling asleep.“Come now," said Mr. Ramsay, suddenlyshutting his book.Come where? To what extraordinary adven-ture? She woke with a start. To land somewhere,to climb somewhere? Where was he leadingthem? For after his immense silence the wordsstartled them. But it was absurd. He washungry, he said. It was time for lunch. Besides,look, he said. There’s the Lighthouse. “We’realmost there."“He’s doing very well," said Macalister,praising James. “He's keeping her very steady."But his father never praised him, Jamesthought grimly.Mr. Ramsay opened the parcel and shared outthe sandwiches among them. Now he was happy,eating bread and cheese with these fishermen. Hewould have liked to live in a cottage and loungeabout in the harbour spitting with the other oldmen, James thought, watching him slice his cheeseinto thin yellow sheets with his penknife.This is right, this is it, Cam kept feeling, asshe peeled her hard-boiled egg. Now she felt asshe did in the study when the old men werereading The Times. Now I can go on thinking316
