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THE WINDOW 25revealed to him the body of his friendship lying withthe red on its lips laid up in peat—for instance, Cam,the little girl, Ramsay’s youngest daughter. Shewas picking Sweet Alice on the bank. She was wildand fierce. She would not 'give a flower to the gentle-man' as the nursemaid told her. No! no! no! shewould not! She clenched her fist. She stamped.And Mr Bankes felt aged and saddened and some-how put into the wrong by her about his friendship.He must have dried and shrunk.

The Ramsays were not rich, and it was a wonderhow they managed to contrive it all. Eight children!To feed eight children on philosophy! Here wasanother of them, Jasper this time, strolling past, tohave a shot at a bird, he said, nonchalantly, swinging
Lily's hand like a pump-handle as he passed, whichcaused Mr Bankes to say, bitterly, how she was afavourite. There was education now to be con-sidered (true, Mrs Ramsay had something of her ownperhaps) let alone the daily wear and tear of shoes

and stockings which those ‘great fellows,' all wellgrown, angular, ruthless youngsters, must require.

As for being sure which was which, or in what orderthey came, that was beyond him. He called themprivately after the kings and queens of England; Camthe Wicked, James the Ruthless, Andrew the Just,Prue the Fair—for Prue would have beauty, hethought, how could she help it?—and Andrew brains.

While he walked up the drive and Lily Briscoe saidyes and no and capped his comments (for she was inlove with them all, in love with this world) he weighedRamsay's case, commiserated him, envied him, as ifhe had seen him divest himself of all those glories of