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Chapter 11

           Thewavessoundedhoarseonthestonesbeneath.Theywent,thethreeofthemtogether,Mrs.Ramsaywalkingratherfastinfront,asifsheexpectedtomeetsomeoneroundthecorner.

           Suddenlythewindowatwhichshewaslookingwaswhitenedbysomelightstuffbehindit.Atlastthensomebodyhadcomeintothedrawing-room;somebodywassittinginthechair.ForHeaven’ssake,sheprayed,letthemsitstillthereandnotcomeflounderingouttotalktoher.Mercifully,whoeveritwasstayedstillinside;hadsettledbysomestrokeoflucksoastothrowanodd-shapedtriangularshadowoverthestep.Italteredthecompositionofthepicturealittle.Itwasinteresting.Itmightbeuseful.Hermoodwascomingbacktoher.Onemustkeeponlookingwithoutforasecondrelaxingtheintensityofemotion,thedeterminationnottobeputoff,nottobebamboozled.Onemustholdthescenesoinaviseandletnothingcomeinandspoilit.Onewanted,shethought,dippingherbrushdeliberately,tobeonalevelwithordinaryexperience,tofeelsimplythat’sachair,that’satable,andyetatthesametime,It’samiracle,it’sanecstasy.Theproblemmightbesolvedafterall.Ah,butwhathadhappened?Somewaveofwhitewentoverthewindowpane.Theairmusthavestirredsomeflounceintheroom.Herheartleaptatherandseizedherandtorturedher.

           "Mrs.Ramsay!Mrs.Ramsay!"shecried,feelingtheoldhorrorcomebacktowantandwantandnottohave

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