TO THE LIGHTHOUSEfeet, afraid of waking a watch-dog by a creakingboard, went on thinking what was she like, wheredid she go that day? He began following herfrom room to room and at last they came to aroom where in a blue light, as if the reflectioncame from many china dishes, she talked to some-body; he listened to her talking. She talked toa servant, saying simply whatever came into herhead. She alone spoke the truth; to her alonecould he speak it. That was the source of hereverlasting attraction for him, perhaps; she wasa person to whom one could say what came intoone’s head. [∧]But all the time he thought of her, he was conscious of his fatherfollowing his thought, surveying it, making it shiver and falter. At last he ceased tothink. HB editor copied VW’s MS alterations from the second copy of proofs: Black pen insertion runs vertically along left margin, with line running to caret just before the excision. —andyroowelchNow in London, now wherever theylived, they were surrounded by distortions;lamentations; and long speeches and violence;and old ladies like Mrs. Beckwith being kind,and bald men sipping tea and being clever whilebread and butter turned brown in the saucer, andthere one twiddled one’s thumbs in the heart ofunreality, sitting in the background on a stool,and if in the middle of all this sighing and beingclever some one sneezed or a dog was sick, nobodydared laugh. And the house grew darker, hethought, and turned the colour of dusty plush,and there were shrines in corners and nothingcould be moved, and nothing could be broken.In the depths of the winter, or in those longtwilight months which seemed interminable, his HB editor copied VW’s MS alterations from the second copy of proofs: Black pen draws box around entire passage cancelling it.[%]HB editor copied VW’s MS alterations from the second copy of proofs: Black pen draws box around entire passage cancelling it. The page number is erroneously cancelled. —peter.shillingsburg288
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