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           "Oh,scholarships!"shesaid.Mr.Ramsaythoughtherfoolishforsayingthat,aboutaseriousthing,likeascholarship.HeshouldbeveryproudofAndrewifhegotascholarship,hesaid.Shewouldbejustasproudofhimifhedidn’t,sheanswered.Theydisagreedalwaysaboutthis,butitdidnotmatter.Shelikedhimtobelieveinscholarships,andhelikedhertobeproudofAndrewwhateverhedid.Suddenlysherememberedthoselittlepathsontheedgeofthecliffs.

           Wasn’titlate?sheasked.Theyhadn’tcomehomeyet.Heflickedhiswatchcarelesslyopen.Butitwasonlyjustpastseven.Heheldhiswatchopenforamoment,decidingthathewouldtellherwhathehadfeltontheterrace.Tobeginwith,itwasnotreasonabletobesonervous.Andrewcouldlookafterhimself.Then,hewantedtotellherthatwhenhewaswalkingontheterracejustnow—herehebecameuncomfortable,asifhewerebreakingintothatsolitude,thataloofness,thatremotenessofhers...Butshepressedhim.Whathadhewantedtotellher,sheasked,thinkingitwasaboutgoingtotheLighthouse;thathewassorryhehadsaid"Damnyou."Butno.Hedidnotliketoseeherlooksosad,hesaid.Onlywoolgathering,sheprotested,flushingalittle.Theybothfeltuncomfortable,asiftheydidnotknowwhethertogoonorgoback.ShehadbeenreadingfairytalestoJames,shesaid.No,theycouldnotsharethat;theycouldnotsaythat.