... "And that's the end," she said, and she saw in his eyes, as the interest in the story died away in them, something else take its place; something wondering, pale, like a reflection of light, which at once made him gaze and marvel. Turning, she looked across the bay, and and there, sure enough, coming regularly across the waves first two quick strokes and then one long steady stroke, was the light of the Lighthouse. It had been lit. In a moment he would ask her, "Are we going to the Lighthouse?" And she would have to say "No: not tomorrow; your father says not." Happily, Mildred came in to fetch them,and the bustle distracted them. But he kept looking back over his shoulder as Mildred carried him out, and she was certain that he was thinking, we are not going to the Lighthouse tomorrow; and she thought, he will remember that all his life. ...
Woolf
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