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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEsomething. And Cam was not ready and Jameswas not ready and Nancy had forgotten to orderthe sandwiches and Mr. Ramsay had lost histemper and banged out of the room.

"What’s the use of going now?" he hadstormed.

Nancy had vanished. There he was, marchingup and down the terrace in a rage. One seemedto hear doors slamming and voices calling all overthe house. Now Nancy burst in, and asked,looking round the room, in a queer half dazed,half desperate way, “What does one send tothe Lighthouse?" as if she were forcing her-self to do what she despaired of ever being ableto do.

What does one send to the Lighthouseindeed! At any other time Lily could have sug-gested reasonably tea, tobacco, newspapers. Butthis morning everything seemed so extra-ordinarily queer that a question like Nancy’s—What does one send to the Lighthouse?—openeddoors in one’s mind that went banging andswinging to and fro and made one keep asking,in a stupefied gape, What does one send? Whatdoes one do? Why is one sitting here afterall?

Sitting alone (for Nancy went out again)among the clean cups at the long table she felt226