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253289too sure of herself - too drastic. Then she had no religious beliefs.Then shewas reserved.And (to go back to Mr. Carmichael) one could notimagine her painting standing painting, sitting reading awholemorning on the lawn. It was unthinkable.Without saying aword to anyone, the only token of her errand a basket on herarm, she went off, to thetown,to the poor,tookto sometaking a flowers food. flowers clothes (There to sit, in some stsordid little bedroom; -Often & often Lily had seen her gosilently off with her basket; she had noted her return.(unconsciousas she& alwayswas of herownappearance)She hadthought eyes that are closing in pain ?& despair have lookedShe thoughtBeauty hasbeen withthem there.upon you.) It was an instinct, like the swallows for the south,the artichokes for the sun, makin turning her often infallibly tothe human race, making her seek her nest there in its heart.Oh no, she could ha not have stood paintingwith awoman dying. And there was always a woman dying.And this was perhaps a little distressing to Mr. Carmichael.& to herself, too, of secretly.To stand painting - to sit readingwhile a woman dies a mile off in want -They both distrusted action? No:They wouldSome notionwas in both of them aboutthe ineffectivenessof action; thesupremacy of thought. Her going was a reproachto them; yetthey felt, the care of the world was more truly theirs than hers:?or they felt, distress at their own impotence to help; orthe usual everlasting sorrow which dogged the of thesafe at the predicament of the insecure.In thatOn the edge of that blue sea, in the ?breast of this moorland, there is theeternal woman dying in rags.ButTansley's contributionto theproblemwas futile in the extreme.Except for that brief momentwhen he threw ducks & drakes,& seemed like other people,what could& Mrs. Ramsay wroteletters, what could be moreinsufferable than?The one word"I" - herepeated it over & over again.As for his opinionsTo herdying day she would not forget that he paid 2d for his