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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEon the edge of the cliff and began to sing somesong aboutDamn your eyes, damn your eyes.They all had to join in and sing the chorus, andshout out together:Damn your eyes, damn your eyes,but it would be fatal to let the tide come in andcover up all the good hunting-grounds beforethey got on to the beach.

"Fatal," Paul agreed, springing up, and asthey went slithering down, he kept quoting theguide-book about "these islands being justlycelebrated for their park-like prospects and theextent and variety of their marine curiosities".But it would not do altogether, this shouting anddamning your eyes, Andrew felt, picking his waydown the cliff, this clapping him on the back,and calling him "old fellow" and all that; itwould not altogether do. It was the worst oftaking women on walks. Once on the beach theyseparated, he going out on to the Pope’s Nose,taking his shoes off, and rolling his socks in themand letting that couple look after themselves;Nancy waded out to her own rocks and searchedher own pools and let that couple look afterthemselves. She crouched low down and touchedthe smooth rubber-like sea anemones, who were118