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Chapter 17

           Heturnedonhercheektheheatoflove,itshorror,itscruelty,itsunscrupulosity.Itscorchedher,andLily,lookingatMinta,beingcharmingtoMr.Ramsayattheotherendofthetable,flinchedforherexposedtothesefangs,andwasthankful.Foratanyrate,shesaidtoherself,catchingsightofthesaltcellaronthepattern,sheneednotmarry,thankHeaven:sheneednotundergothatdegradation.Shewassavedfromthatdilution.Shewouldmovethetreerathermoretothemiddle.

           Suchwasthecomplexityofthings.Forwhathappenedtoher,especiallystayingwiththeRamsays,wastobemadetofeelviolentlytwooppositethingsatthesametime;that’swhatyoufeel,wasone;that’swhatIfeel,wastheother,andthentheyfoughttogetherinhermind,asnow.Itissobeautiful,soexciting,thislove,thatItrembleonthevergeofit,andoffer,quiteoutofmyownhabit,tolookforabroochonabeach;alsoitisthestupidest,themostbarbaricofhumanpassions,andturnsaniceyoungmanwithaprofilelikeagem’s(Paul’swasexquisite)intoabullywithacrowbar(hewasswaggering,hewasinsolent)intheMileEndRoad.Yet,shesaidtoherself,fromthedawnoftimeodeshavebeensungtolove;wreathsheapedandroses;andifyouaskedninepeopleoutoftentheywouldsaytheywantednothingbutthislove;whilethewomen,judgingfromherownexperience,wouldallthetimebefeeling,Thisisnotwhatwewant;thereisnothingmoretedious,puerile,andinhumanethanthis;yetitisalsobeautifulandnecessary.

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