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THE WINDOW 53games and talking nonsense. Imagine what achange from the things he thinks about, she said.

He was bearing down upon them. Now he stoppeddead and stood looking in silence at the sea. Now hehad turned away again.


Yes, Mr Bankes said, watching him go. It was athousand pities. (Lily had said something abouthis frightening her—he changed from one mood toanother so suddenly.) Yes, said Mr Bankes, it wasa thousand pities that Ramsay could not behave alittle more like other people. (For he liked LilyBriscoe; he could discuss Ramsay with her quiteopenly.) It was for that reason, he said, that theyoung don’t read Carlyle. A crusty old grumblerwho lost his temper if the porridge was cold, whyshould he preach to us? was what Mr Bankes under-stood that young people said nowadays. It was athousand pities if you thought, as he did, that Carlylewas one of the great teachers of mankind. Lily wasashamed to say that she had not read Carlyle sinceshe was at school. But in her opinion one liked MrRamsay all the better for thinking that if his littlefinger ached the whole world must come to an end.It was not that she minded. For who could be de-ceived by him? He asked you quite openly to flatterhim, to admire him, his little dodges deceived no-body. What she disliked was his narrowness, hisblindness, she said, looking after him.

'A bit of a hypocrite?' Mr Bankes suggested,looking, too, at Mr Ramsay’s back, for was he notC 949