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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEto see pictures: they only made one hopelesslydiscontented with one’s own work. Mr. Bankesthought one could carry that point of view too far.We can’t all be Titians and we can’t all beDarwins, he said; at the same time he doubtedwhether you could have your Darwin and yourTitian if it weren’t for humble people like our-selves. Lily would have liked to pay him acompliment; you’re not humble, Mr. Bankes,she would have liked to have said. But he didnot want compliments (most men do, she thought),and she was a little ashamed of her impulse andsaid nothing while he remarked that perhapswhat he was saying did not apply to pictures.Anyhow, said Lily, tossing off her little insin-cerity, she would always go on painting, becauseit interested her. Yes, said Mr. Bankes, he wassure she would, and as they reached the end ofthe lawn he was asking her whether she haddifficulty in finding subjects in London whenthey turned and saw the Ramsays. So that ismarriage, Lily thought, a man and a womanlooking at a girl throwing a ball. That is whatMrs. Ramsay tried to tell me the other night,she thought. For she was wearing a greenshawl, and they were standing close togetherwatching Prue and Jasper throwing catches. Andsuddenly the meaning which, for no reason at all,114