THE WINDOWhouse roof. Yes, but as she strolled along withher husband, she felt that that particular source ofworry had been placed. She had it on the tip ofher tongue to say, as they strolled, “It’ll cost fiftypounds", but instead, for her heart failed herabout money, she talked about Jasper shootingbirds, and he said, at once, soothing her instantly,that it was natural in a boy, and he trusted hewould find better ways of amusing himself beforelong. Her husband was so sensible, so just. Andso she said, “Yes; all children go through stages,"and began considering the dahlias in the big bed,and wondering what about next year’s flowers, andhad he heard the children’s nickname for CharlesTansley, she asked. The atheist, they called him,the little atheist. “He’s not a polished specimen,"said Mr. Ramsay. "Far from it," said Mrs.Ramsay.

She supposed it was all right leaving him tohis own devices, Mrs. Ramsay said, wonderingwhether it was any use sending down bulbs; didthey plant them? “Oh, he has his dissertation towrite," said Mr. Ramsay. She knew all aboutthat, said Mrs. Ramsay. He talked of nothingelse. It was about the influence of somebody uponsomething. “Well, it’s all he has to count on,"said Mr. Ramsay. “Pray Heaven he won’t fallin love with Prue," said Mrs. Ramsay. He’d105

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