THE LIGHTHOUSE

are we dawdling about here for, eh? " as, once
before he had brought his blade down among them
on the terrace and she had gone stiff all over, and if
there had been an axe handy, a knife, or anything
with a sharp point he would have seized it and
struck his father through the heart. His mother
had gone stiff all over, and then, her arm slacken-
ing, so that he felt she listened to him no longer,
she had risen somehow and gone away and left
him there, impotent, ridiculous, sitting on the
floor grasping a pair of scissors.

Not a breath of wind blew. The water
chuckled and gurgled in the bottom of the boat
where three or four mackerel beat their tails up
and down in a pool of water not deep enough to
cover them. At any moment Mr. Ramsay (James
scarcely dared look at him) might rouse himself,
shut his book, and say something sharp; but for
the moment he was reading, so that James
stealthily, as if he were stealing downstairs on bare
feet, afraid of waking a watch-dog by a creaking
board, went on thinking what was she like, where
did she go that day? He began following her
from room to room and at last they came to a
room where in a blue light, as if the reflection
came from many china dishes, she talked to some-
body; he listened to her talking. She talked to
a servant, saying simply whatever came into her

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