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.

Gently the waves would break (Lily heard them in her sleep); tenderly the light fell (it seemed to come through her eyelids). And it all looked, Mr. Carmichael thought, shutting his book, falling asleep, much as it used to look years ago.

She [did feel] made aware of the pettiness of some part of her, and of human relations how flawed they are, how despicable, how self-seeking, at their best.

For nothing was simply one thing.