THE WINDOW

" Well, then, look to-night/' said Mrs. Ramsay,
They paused. He wished Andrew could be
induced to work harder. He would lose every
chance of a scholarship if he didn't. " Oh scholar-
ships! " she said. Mr. Ramsay thought her
foolish for saying that, about a serious thing, like
a scholarship. He should be very proud of
Andrew if he got a scholarship, he said. She
would be just as proud of him if he didn't, she
answered. They disagreed always about this,
but it did not matter. She liked him to believe
in scholarships, and he liked her to be proud of
Andrew whatever he did. Suddenly she remem-
bered those little paths on the edge of the cliffs.

Wasn't it late? she asked. They hadn't come
home yet. He flicked his watch carelessly open.
But it was only just past seven. He held his
watch open for a moment, deciding that he would
tell her what he had felt on the terrace. To begin
with, it was not reasonable to be so nervous.
Andrew could look after himself. Then, he
wanted to tell her that when he was walking on
the terrace just now—here he became uncomfort-
able, as if he were breaking into that solitude, that
aloofness, that remoteness of hers. . . . But she
pressed him. What had he wanted to tell her, she
asked, thinking it was about going to the Light-
house; and that he was sorry he had said " Damn

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