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140 TO THE LIGHTHOUSEnot he, then another. This man's strength andsanity, his feeling for straightforward simple things,these fishermen, the poor old crazed creature inMucklebackit's cottage made him feel so vigorous,so relieved of something that he felt roused andtriumphant and could not choke back his tears.Raising the book a little to hide his face he let themfall and shook his head from side to side and forgothimself completely (but not one or two reflectionsabout morality and French novels and English novelsand Scott’s hands being tied but his view perhapsbeing as true as the other view), forgot his ownbothers and failures completely in poor Steenie’sdrowning and Mucklebackit’s sorrow (that was Scottat his best) and the astonishing delight and feelingof vigour that it gave him.

Well, let them improve upon that, he thought ashe finished the chapter. He felt that he had beenarguing with somebody, and had got the better ofhim. They could not improve upon that, whateverthey might say; and his own position became moresecure. The lovers were fiddlesticks, he thought,collecting it all in his mind again. That’s fiddle-sticks, that’s first-rate, he thought, putting onething beside another. But he must read it again.He could not remember the whole shape of the thing.He had to keep his judgment in suspense. So hereturned to the other thought—if young men did notcare for this, naturally they did not care for himeither. One ought not to complain, thought MrRamsay, trying to stifle his desire to complain to hiswife that young men did not admire him. But hewas determined; he would not bother her again.