She was gentle with him, and sympathetic, and she allowed no one to make a noise in the room. He lay on the sofa, eyes closed, frowning, and from time to time she went to him, to sprinkle more eau-de-cologne on a handkerchief. Once, because she could not resist it, she stroked back an errant strand of hair. Stephen’s eyes flew open. She allowed her hand to rest for a moment near his head, then she went back to her chair, conscious that he was watching her.

Then Mrs. Ramsay came to stay with them, bringing Thomas, and after three days spoke tentatively to Elizabeth.

“Darling, how are things with you? Is it easier yet?”

Elizabeth would not look at her.

“Yes, mater. Much.”

“Can I be officious, please? Does Stephen get on your nerves still?”

Elizabeth shook her head. Stephen had stayed in bed one day when he had had neuralgia, and he had not shaved. Elizabeth had hardly noticed it. That showed her how she had changed.

“I’m so glad, because he’s such a dear thing,” Mrs. Ramsay said. “So very human. Thomas is chasing the lamb again. How bad of him; Elizabeth, I want you and Stephen to be happy. Tell me when you are.”

She did not allude to the subject again during her visit, but when she left the Halt, Elizabeth of her own accord put her arms about her, and whispered,

“Mater, I do love you.”

Mrs. Ramsay laughed, and kissed her.

“I hoped you would, darling. Madness and all?”

“That is the part I love.”

“Then you’re a new Elizabeth, my dear, because I used to horrify you dreadfully.”

“What were you and Mater whispering about?” Stephen asked, when his mother was gone.

“That’s our secret,” Elizabeth answered mysteriously.

“I don’t think I altogether approve of you and Mater having secrets,” he said solemnly.

Elizabeth laughed and went away to pick flowers for the drawing-room. It struck him that there was invitation in her backward glance, but he could not be sure.

Meanwhile his novel grew quickly, and as quickly was typed. Having found that her first, nervous criticisms were received favourably, Elizabeth grew bolder, and had many suggestions to make. On one occasion they came near to quarrelling, and she had to put a check on her tongue. She criticised adversely, forgetting that Stephen was sensitive about his work. When the argument became acrimonious and she saw that he was really angry she began to eat her words, very cunningly, until at last she had smoothed Stephen’s ruffled temper and made him docile again, and repentant. Then he thought over all that she had said, lectured her severely, and went away to rewrite the few pages she had not liked. She was careful not to let him see her triumph.