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Chapter 17

           Everythingabouthimhadthatmeagrefixity,thatbareunloveliness.Butnevertheless,thefactremained,itwasimpossibletodislikeanyoneifonelookedatthem.Shelikedhiseyes;theywereblue,deepset,frightening.

           "Doyouwritemanyletters,Mr.Tansley?"askedMrs.Ramsay,pityinghimtoo,Lilysupposed;forthatwastrueofMrsRamsayshepitiedmenalwaysasiftheylackedsomethingwomennever,asiftheyhadsomething.Hewrotetohismother;otherwisehedidnotsupposehewroteoneletteramonth,saidMr.Tansley,shortly.

           Forhewasnotgoingtotalkthesortofrotthesepeoplewantedhimtotalk.Hewasnotgoingtobecondescendedtobythesesillywomen.Hehadbeenreadinginhisroom,andnowhecamedownanditallseemedtohimsilly,superficial,flimsy.Whydidtheydress?Hehadcomedowninhisordinaryclothes.Hehadnotgotanydressclothes."Onenevergetsanythingworthhavingbypost"thatwasthesortofthingtheywerealwayssaying.Theymademensaythatsortofthing.Yes,itwasprettywelltrue,hethought.Theynevergotanythingworthhavingfromoneyear’sendtoanother.Theydidnothingbuttalk,talk,talk,eat,eat,eat.Itwasthewomen’sfault.Womenmadecivilisationimpossiblewithalltheir"charm,"alltheirsilliness.

           "NogoingtotheLighthousetomorrow,Mrs.Ramsay,"hesaid,assertinghimself.Helikedher;headmiredher;hestillthoughtofthemaninthedrain-pipelookingupather;buthefeltitnecessarytoasserthimself.

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