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94 TO THE LIGHTHOUSEof all to her. Look at that, she said to Rose, hopingthat Rose would see it more clearly than she could.For one’s children so often gave one’s own per-ceptions a little thrust forwards.

But which was it to be? They had all the traysof her jewel-case open. The gold necklace, whichwas Italian, or the opal necklace, which Uncle Jameshad brought her from India; or should she wear heramethysts?

‘Choose, dearests, choose,’ she said, hoping thatthey would make haste.

But she let them take their time to choose: shelet Rose, particularly, take up this and then that, andhold her jewels against the black dress, for this littleceremony of choosing jewels, which was gone throughevery night, was what Rose liked best, she knew.She had some hidden reason of her own for attachinggreat importance to this choosing what her motherwas to wear. What was the reason, Mrs Ramsaywondered, standing still to let her clasp the necklaceshe had chosen, divining, through her own past,some deep, some buried, some quite speechless feelingthat one had for one’s mother at Rose’s age. Like allfeelings felt for oneself, Mrs Ramsay thought, itmade one sad. It was so inadequate, what one couldgive in return; and what Rose felt was quite out ofproportion to anything she actually was. And Rosewould grow up; and Rose would suffer, she supposed,with these deep feelings, and she said she was readynow, and they would go down, and Jasper, becausehe was the gentleman, should give her his arm, andRose, as she was the lady, should carry her hand-kerchief (she gave her the handkerchief), and what