OOhbut, Lily would say, there was her father;her home; even, had she dared to say it, herpainting. But all this seemed so little, so virginal,against the other. Yet, as the night wore on, andwhite lights parted the curtains, and even now andthen some bird chirped in the garden, gatheringa desperate courage she would urge her ownexemption from the universal law; plead for it;half laughing;[%]she liked to be alone; she liked tobe herself; she was not made for that; and so haveto meet a serious stare from eyes of unparalleleddepth, and confront Mrs. Ramsay’s HB: Blue pencil marker between “m” and “s”, possibly indicating line break in American proofs.  simplecertainty (and she was childlike now) that her dearLily, her little Brisk, was a fool. Then[∧] she re- ,, membered[∧]she had laid her head on Mrs. Ramsay'slap and laughed and laughed and laughed, laughedalmost hysterically at the thought of Mrs. Ramsaypresiding with immutable calm over destinieswhich she completely failed to understand. Thereshe sat, simple, serious. She had recovered hersense of her now—this was the glove’s twistedfinger. But into what sanctuary had one pene-trated? Lily Briscoe had looked up at last,and there was Mrs. Ramsay, unwitting entirelywhat had caused her laughter, still presiding,but now with every trace of wilfulness abol-ished, and in its stead, something clear as thespace which the clouds at last uncover—theF81R. & R CLARK, LTD.3 FEB 1927EDINBURGH.Clark: Faintly inked stamp.
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