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Chapter 3

           Thenightsnowarefullofwindanddestruction;thetreesplungeandbendandtheirleavesflyhelterskelteruntilthelawnisplasteredwiththemandtheyliepackedinguttersandchokerainpipesandscatterdamppaths.Alsotheseatossesitselfandbreaksitself,andshouldanysleeperfancyingthathemightfindonthebeachananswertohisdoubts,asharerofhissolitude,throwoffhisbedclothesandgodownbyhimselftowalkonthesand,noimagewithsemblanceofservinganddivinepromptitudecomesreadilytohandbringingthenighttoorderandmakingtheworldreflectthecompassofthesoul.Thehanddwindlesinhishand;thevoicebellowsinhisear.Almostitwouldappearthatitisuselessinsuchconfusiontoaskthenightthosequestionsastowhat,andwhy,andwherefore,whichtemptthesleeperfromhisbedtoseekananswer.

           [Mr.Ramsay,stumblingalongapassageonedarkmorning,stretchedhisarmsout,butMrs.Ramsayhavingdiedrathersuddenlythenightbefore,hisarms,thoughstretchedout,remainedempty.]]

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