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Chapter 11

           Withoutsayingaword,theonlytokenofhererrandabasketonherarm,shewentofftothetown,tothepoor,tositinsomestuffylittlebedroom.OftenandoftenLilyhadseenhergosilentlyinthemidstofsomegame,somediscussion,withherbasketonherarm,veryupright.Shehadnotedherreturn.Shehadthought,halflaughing(shewassomethodicalwiththeteacups),halfmoved(herbeautytookone’sbreathaway),eyesthatareclosinginpainhavelookedonyou.Youhavebeenwiththemthere.

           AndthenMrs.Ramsaywouldbeannoyedbecausesomebodywaslate,orthebutternotfresh,ortheteapotchipped.AndallthetimeshewassayingthatthebutterwasnotfreshonewouldbethinkingofGreektemples,andhowbeautyhadbeenwiththemthereinthatstuffylittleroom.Shenevertalkedofitshewent,punctually,directly.Itwasherinstincttogo,aninstinctliketheswallowsforthesouth,theartichokesforthesun,turningherinfalliblytothehumanrace,makinghernestinitsheart.Andthis,likeallinstincts,wasalittledistressingtopeoplewhodidnotshareit;toMr.Carmichaelperhaps,toherselfcertainly.Somenotionwasinbothofthemabouttheineffectivenessofaction,thesupremacyofthought.Hergoingwasareproachtothem,gaveadifferenttwisttotheworld,sothattheywereledtoprotest,seeingtheirownprepossessionsdisappear,andclutchatthemvanishing.CharlesTansleydidthattoo:itwaspartofthereasonwhyonedislikedhim.Heupsettheproportionsofone’sworld.

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