TO THE LIGHTHOUSElies. He stamped his foot on the stone step."Damn you," he said. But what had she said?Simply that it might be fine to-morrow. So itmight.

Not with the barometer falling and the winddue west.

To pursue truth with such astonishing lack ofconsideration for other people’s feelings, to rendthe thin veils of civilisation so wantonly, sobrutally, was to her so horrible an outrage ofhuman decency that, without replying, dazedand blinded, she bent her head as if to let thepelt of jagged hail, the drench of dirty water,bespatter her unrebuked. There was nothingto be said.

He stood by her in silence. Very humbly, atlength, he said that he would step over and askthe Coastguards if she liked.

There was nobody whom she reverenced asshe reverenced him.

She was quite ready to take his word for it,she said. Only then they need not cut sandwiches—that was all. They came to her, naturally,since she was a woman, all day long with this andthat; one wanting this, another that; the childrenwere growing up; she often felt she was nothingbut a sponge sopped full of human emotions.Then he said, Damn you. He said, It must rain.54
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