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THE LIGHTHOUSEAn old-fashioned scene that was, which required,very nearly, crinolines and peg-top trousers.Letting herself be helped by him, Mrs. Ramsayhad thought (Lily supposed) the time has comenow. Yes, she would say it now. Yes, she wouldmarry him. And she stepped slowly, quietly onshore. Probably she said one word only, lettingher hand rest still in his. l will marry you, shemight have said, with her hand in his; but nomore. Time after time the same thrill had passedbetween them—obviously it had, Lily thought,smoothing a way for her ants. She was notinventing; she was only trying to smooth outsomething she had been given years ago foldedup; something she had seen. For in the roughand tumble of daily life, with all those childrenabout, all those visitors, one had constantly a senseof repetition—of one thing (that bend of his tohelp her to her feet, for instance)[%]falling whereanother had fallen, and so setting up an echowhich chimed in the air and made life thenitfull ofvibrations.But it would be a mistake, she thought,thinking how they walked off together, she in her[%]green shawl, he with his tie flying, arm in arm,past the greenhouse, to simplify their relationship.It was no monotony of bliss—she with herimpulses and quicknesses; he with his shuddersU2307
