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Chapter 3

           Andasshelostconsciousnessofouterthings,andhernameandherpersonalityandherappearance,andwhetherMr.Carmichaelwasthereornot,hermindkeptthrowingupfromitsdepths,scenes,andnames,andsayings,andmemoriesandideas,likeafountainspurtingoverthatglaring,hideouslydifficultwhitespace,whileshemodelleditwithgreensandblues.

           CharlesTansleyusedtosaythat,sheremembered,womencan’tpaint,can’twrite.Comingupbehindher,hehadstoodclosebesideher,athingshehated,asshepaintedheronthisveryspot."Shagtobacco,"hesaid,"fivepenceanounce,"paradinghispoverty,hisprinciples.(Butthewarhaddrawnthestingofherfemininity.Poordevils,onethought,poordevils,ofbothsexes.)Hewasalwayscarryingabookaboutunderhisarmapurplebook.He"worked."Hesat,sheremembered,workinginablazeofsun.Atdinnerhewouldsitrightinthemiddleoftheview.Butafterall,shereflected,therewasthesceneonthebeach.Onemustrememberthat.Itwasawindymorning.Theyhadallgonedowntothebeach.Mrs.Ramsaysatdownandwrotelettersbyarock.Shewroteandwrote."Oh,"shesaid,lookingupatsomethingfloatinginthesea,"isitalobsterpot?Isitanupturnedboat?"Shewassoshort-sightedthatshecouldnotsee,andthenCharlesTansleybecameasniceashecouldpossiblybe.Hebeganplayingducksanddrakes.Theychoselittleflatblackstonesandsentthemskippingoverthewaves.EverynowandthenMrs.Ramsaylookedupoverherspectaclesandlaughedatthem.

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