Status Updates From To the Lighthouse

Here he was, close upon her again greedy, distraught. Well, it would be simpler then to have it over. Surely she could imitate from recollection the glow, the rhapsody, the self-surrender she had seen on so many women's faces when on some occasion like this they blazed up into a rapture of sympathy, of delight in the reward they had, which, though the reason of it escaped her evidently conferred on them bliss.

Part one down and I am once again in awe of how much Woolf can make of so little happening.