110 TO THE LIGHTHOUSEmight arise; the man of genius, in politics as in any-thing else. Probably he will be extremely disagree-able to us old fogies, thought Mr Bankes, doing hisbest to make allowances, for he knew by some curiousphysical sensation, as of nerves erect in his spine,that he was jealous, for himself partly, partly moreprobably for his work, for his point of view, for hisscience; and therefore he was not entirely open-minded or altogether fair, for Mr Tansley seemed tobe saying: You have wasted your lives. You are allof you wrong. Poor old fogies, you're hopelesslybehind the times. He seemed to be rather cocksure,this young man; and his manners were bad. ButMr Bankes bade himself observe, he had courage; hehad ability; he was extremely well up in the facts.Probably, Mr Bankes thought, as Tansley abusedthe government, there is a good deal in what he says.

‘Tell me now . . .' he said. So they argued aboutpolitics, and Lily looked at the leaf on the tablecloth;and Mrs Ramsay, leaving the argument entirely inthe hands of the two men, wondered why she was sobored by this talk, and wished, looking at her hus-band at the other end of the table, that he would saysomething. One word, she said to herself. For ifhe said a thing, it would make all the difference. Hewent to the heart of things. He cared about fisher-men and their wages. He could not sleep for think-ing of them. It was altogether different when hespoke; one did not feel then, pray heaven you don’tsee how little I care, because one did care. Then,realizing that it was because she admired him somuch that she was waiting for him to speak, she feltas if somebody had been praising her husband to her

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