Chapter 17

           ButwhathaveIdonewithmylife?thoughtMrs.Ramsay,takingherplaceattheheadofthetable,andlookingatalltheplatesmakingwhitecirclesonit."William,sitbyme,"shesaid."Lily,"shesaid,wearily,"overthere."Theyhadthat—PaulRayleyandMintaDoyle—she,onlythis—aninfinitelylongtableandplatesandknives.Atthefarendwasherhusband,sittingdown,allinaheap,frowning.Whatat?Shedidnotknow.Shedidnotmind.Shecouldnotunderstandhowshehadeverfeltanyemotionoraffectionforhim.Shehadasenseofbeingpasteverything,througheverything,outofeverything,asshehelpedthesoup,asiftherewasaneddy—there—andonecouldbeinit,oronecouldbeoutofit,andshewasoutofit.It’sallcometoanend,shethought,whiletheycameinoneafteranother,CharlesTansley—"Sitthere,please,"shesaid—AugustusCarmichael—andsatdown.Andmeanwhileshewaited,passively,forsomeonetoanswerher,forsomethingtohappen.Butthisisnotathing,shethought,ladlingoutsoup,thatonesays.

           Raisinghereyebrowsatthediscrepancy—thatwaswhatshewasthinking,thiswaswhatshewasdoing—ladlingoutsoup—shefelt,moreandmorestrongly,outsidethateddy;orasifashadehadfallen,and,robbedofcolour,shesawthingstruly.Theroom(shelookedroundit)wasveryshabby.Therewasnobeautyanywhere.SheforeboretolookatMr.Tansley.Nothingseemedtohavemerged.Theyallsatseparate.