To the Lighthouse, Part 3 of 13
The Sleepy Bookshelf
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The Hero of the Doomed Expedition
Mr. Ramsey squared his shoulders and stood very upright by the urn. Mrs Ramsey, who had been sitting loosely, folding her son in her arm, bracing herself and half turning, seemed to raise herself with an effort, and at once to pour a wreck into the air a rain of energy, a column of spray. But no, nothing would make Mr Ramsey move on. There he stood, demanding sympathy. His own little light would shine, not very brightly for a year or two, and then be merged in some bigger light, and that in a bigger still. Who then could blame the leader of that full-on party, which after all has climbed high enough to see the
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