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Chapter 10

           Thatmeanthewouldclimboutontoarock;hewouldbecutoff.Orcomingbacksinglefileononeofthoselittlepathsabovethecliffoneofthemmightslip.Hewouldrollandthencrash.Itwasgrowingquitedark.

           Butshedidnotlethervoicechangeintheleastasshefinishedthestory,andadded,shuttingthebook,andspeakingthelastwordsasifshehadmadethemupherself,lookingintoJames’seyes:"Andtheretheyarelivingstillatthisverytime."

           "Andthat’stheend,"shesaid,andshesawinhiseyes,astheinterestofthestorydiedawayinthem,somethingelsetakeitsplace;somethingwondering,pale,likethereflectionofalight,whichatoncemadehimgazeandmarvel.Turning,shelookedacrossthebay,andthere,sureenough,comingregularlyacrossthewavesfirsttwoquickstrokesandthenonelongsteadystroke,wasthelightoftheLighthouse.Ithadbeenlit.

           Inamomenthewouldaskher,"ArewegoingtotheLighthouse?"Andshewouldhavetosay,"No:nottomorrow;yourfathersaysnot."Happily,Mildredcameintofetchthem,andthebustledistractedthem.ButhekeptlookingbackoverhisshoulderasMildredcarriedhimout,andshewascertainthathewasthinking,wearenotgoingtotheLighthousetomorrow;andshethought,hewillrememberthatallhislife.

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