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           Butwhydifferent,andhowdifferent?sheaskedherself,scrapingherpaletteofallthosemoundsofblueandgreenwhichseemedtoherlikeclodswithnolifeinthemnow,yetshevowed,shewouldinspirethem,forcethemtomove,flow,doherbiddingtomorrow.Howdidshediffer?Whatwasthespiritinher,theessentialthing,bywhich,hadyoufoundacrumpledgloveinthecornerofasofa,youwouldhaveknownit,fromitstwistedfinger,hersindisputably?Shewaslikeabirdforspeed,anarrowfordirectness.Shewaswillful;shewascommanding(ofcourse,Lilyremindedherself,Iamthinkingofherrelationswithwomen,andIammuchyounger,aninsignificantperson,livingofftheBromptonRoad).Sheopenedbedroomwindows.Sheshutdoors.(SoshetriedtostartthetuneofMrs.Ramsayinherhead.)Arrivinglateatnight,withalighttaponone’sbedroomdoor,wrappedinanoldfurcoat(forthesettingofherbeautywasalwaysthat—hasty,butapt),shewouldenactagainwhateveritmightbe—CharlesTansleylosinghisumbrella;Mr.Carmichaelsnufflingandsniffing;Mr.Bankessaying,"Thevegetablesaltsarelost."Allthisshewouldadroitlyshape;evenmaliciouslytwist;and,movingovertothewindow,inpretencethatshemustgo—itwasdawn,shecouldseethesunrising—halfturnback,moreintimately,butstillalwayslaughing,insistthatshemust,Mintamust,theyallmustmarry,sinceinthewholeworldwhateverlaurelsmightbetossedtoher(butMrs.Ramsaycarednotafigforherpainting),ortriumphswonbyher(probablyMrs.Ramsayhadhadhershareofthose),andhereshesaddened,darkened,andcamebacktoherchair,therecouldbenodisputingthis:anunmarriedwoman(shelightlytookherhandforamoment),anunmarriedwomanhasmissedthebestoflife.