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Chapter 1

           Thewheelbarrow,thelawnmower,thesoundofpoplartrees,leaveswhiteningbeforerain,rookscawing,broomsknocking,dressesrustlingalltheseweresocolouredanddistinguishedinhismindthathehadalreadyhisprivatecode,hissecretlanguage,thoughheappearedtheimageofstarkanduncompromisingseverity,withhishighforeheadandhisfierceblueeyes,impeccablycandidandpure,frowningslightlyatthesightofhumanfrailty,sothathismother,watchinghimguidehisscissorsneatlyroundtherefrigerator,imaginedhimallredandermineontheBenchordirectingasternandmomentousenterpriseinsomecrisisofpublicaffairs.

           "But,"saidhisfather,stoppinginfrontofthedrawing-roomwindow,"itwon’tbefine."

           Hadtherebeenanaxehandy,apoker,oranyweaponthatwouldhavegashedaholeinhisfather’sbreastandkilledhim,thereandthen,Jameswouldhaveseizedit.SuchweretheextremesofemotionthatMr.Ramsayexcitedinhischildren’sbreastsbyhismerepresence;standing,asnow,leanasaknife,narrowasthebladeofone,grinningsarcastically,notonlywiththepleasureofdisillusioninghissonandcastingridiculeuponhiswife,whowastenthousandtimesbetterineverywaythanhewas(Jamesthought),butalsowithsomesecretconceitathisownaccuracyofjudgement.Whathesaidwastrue.Itwasalwaystrue.

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