And that’s the end,” shesaid, and she saw in his eyes, asthe interest of the story diedaway in them, something elsetake its place; somethingwondering, pale, like thereflection of a light, which atonce made him gaze and marvel.Turning, she looked across thebay, and there, sure enough,coming regularly across thewaves first two quick strokesand then one long steady stroke,was the light of the Lighthouse.It had been lit.

And that’s the end,” shesaid, and she saw in his eyes, asthe interest of the story diedaway in them, something elsetake its place; somethingwondering, pale, like thereflection of a light, which atonce made him gaze and marvel.Turning, she looked across thebay, and there, sure enough,coming regularly across thewaves first two quick strokesand then one long steady stroke,was the light of the Lighthouse.It had been lit.-To The Lighthouse.

<...> there she looked out to meet that stroke of the Lighthouse, the long steady stroke, the last of the three, which was her stroke, for watching them in this mood always at this hour one could not help attaching oneself to one thing especially of the thing one saw; and this thing, the long steady stroke, was her stroke. Often she found herself sitting and looking, sitting and looking, with her work in her hands until she became the thing she looked at - that light for example.

For if Chloe likes Olivia and Mary Carmichael knows how to express it she will light a torch in that vast chamber where nobody has yet been.

A light here required a shadow there.