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Chapter 11

           Butitwouldbeamistake,shethought,thinkinghowtheywalkedofftogether,arminarm,pastthegreenhouse,tosimplifytheirrelationship.Itwasnomonotonyofblissshewithherimpulsesandquicknesses;hewithhisshuddersandglooms.Oh,no.Thebedroomdoorwouldslamviolentlyearlyinthemorning.Hewouldstartfromthetableinatemper.Hewouldwhizzhisplatethroughthewindow.Thenallthroughthehousetherewouldbeasenseofdoorsslammingandblindsfluttering,asifagustywindwereblowingandpeoplescuddedabouttryinginahastywaytofastenhatchesandmakethingsship-shape.ShehadmetPaulRayleylikethatonedayonthestairs.Theyhadlaughedandlaughed,likeacoupleofchildren,allbecauseMr.Ramsay,findinganearwiginhismilkatbreakfasthadsentthewholethingflyingthroughtheairontotheterraceoutside."Anearwig",Pruemurmured,awestruck,"inhismilk."Otherpeoplemightfindcentipedes.Buthehadbuiltroundhimsuchafenceofsanctity,andoccupiedthespacewithsuchademeanourofmajestythatanearwiginhismilkwasamonster.

           ButittiredMrs.Ramsay,itcowedheralittletheplateswhizzingandthedoorsslamming.Andtherewouldfallbetweenthemsometimeslongrigidsilences,when,inastateofmindwhichannoyedLilyinher,halfplaintive,halfresentful,sheseemedunabletosurmountthetempestcalmly,ortolaughastheylaughed,butinherwearinessperhapsconcealedsomething.Shebroodedandsatsilent.

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