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Chapter 9

           LilyBriscoewentonputtingawayherbrushes,lookingup,lookingdown.Lookingup,therehewasMr.Ramsayadvancingtowardsthem,swinging,careless,oblivious,remote.Abitofahypocrite?sherepeated.Oh,nothemostsincereofmen,thetruest(herehewas),thebest;but,lookingdown,shethought,heisabsorbedinhimself,heistyrannical,heisunjust;andkeptlookingdown,purposely,foronlysocouldshekeepsteady,stayingwiththeRamsays.Directlyonelookedupandsawthem,whatshecalled"beinginlove"floodedthem.Theybecamepartofthatunrealbutpenetratingandexcitinguniversewhichistheworldseenthroughtheeyesoflove.Theskystucktothem;thebirdssangthroughthem.And,whatwasevenmoreexciting,shefelt,too,asshesawMr.Ramsaybearingdownandretreating,andMrs.RamsaysittingwithJamesinthewindowandthecloudmovingandthetreebending,howlife,frombeingmadeupoflittleseparateincidentswhichonelivedonebyone,becamecurledandwholelikeawavewhichboreoneupandthrewonedownwithit,there,withadashonthebeach.

           Mr.Bankesexpectedhertoanswer.AndshewasabouttosaysomethingcriticizingMrs.Ramsay,howshewasalarming,too,inherway,high-handed,orwordstothateffect,whenMr.Bankesmadeitentirelyunnecessaryforhertospeakbyhisrapture.Forsuchitwasconsideringhisage,turnedsixty,andhiscleanlinessandhisimpersonality,andthewhitescientificcoatwhichseemedtoclothehim.

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