THE WINDOW

close to his side (as she did now). As they turned

by the cross roads he thought what an appalling

experience he had been through, and he must tell

some one—Mrs. Ramsay of course, for it took his

breath away to think what he had been and done.

It had been far and away the worst moment of

his life when he asked Minta to marry him. He

would go straight to Mrs. Ramsay, because he

felt somehow that she was the person who had

made him do it. She had made him think he

could do any thing. Nobody else took him

seriously. But she made him believe that he

could do whatever he wanted. He had felt her

eyes on him all day to-day, following him about

(though she never said a word) as if she were

saying, " Yes, you can do it. I believe in you.

I expect it of you." She had made him feel all

that, and directly they got back (he looked for the

lights of the house above the bay) he would go to

her and say, "I've done it, Mrs. Ramsay; thanks

to you ". And so turning into the, lane that led to

the house he could see lights moving about in the

upper windows. They must be awfolly late then.

People were getting ready for dinner. The house

was all lit up, and the lights after the darkness

made his eyes feel full, and he said to himself

childishly, as he walked up the drive, Lights,

lights, lights, and repeated in a dazed way, Lights^

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