按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
down the sheet of blottingpaper over the manuscript；
she braced herself to resist Katharine； whose presence
struck her； not merely by its force； as usual； but as something
in the nature of a menace。
“You’re working？” said Katharine； with hesitation； perceiving
that she was not wele。
“Nothing that matters；” Mary replied； drawing forward
the best of the chairs and poking the fire。
“I didn’t know you had to work after you had left the
office；” said Katharine； in a tone which gave the impression
that she was thinking of something else； as was；
indeed； the case。
She had been paying calls with her mother； and in between
the calls Mrs。 Hilbery had rushed into shops and
bought pillowcases and blottingbooks on no percep
231
Night and Day
tible method for the furnishing of Katharine’s house。
Katharine had a sense of impedimenta accumulating on
all sides of her。 She had left her at length； and had e
on to keep an engagement to dine with Rodney at his
rooms。 But she did not mean to get to him before seven
o’clock； and so had plenty of time to walk all the way
from Bond Street to the Temple if she wished it。 The flow
of faces streaming on either side of her had hypnotized
her into a mood of profound despondency； to which her
expectation of an evening alone with Rodney contributed。
They were very good friends again； better friends；
they both said； than ever before。 So far as she was concerned
this was true。 There were many more things in
him than she had guessed until emotion brought them
forth—strength； affection； sympathy。 And she thought
of them and looked at the faces passing； and thought
how much alike they were； and how distant； nobody feeling
anything as she felt nothing； and distance； she
thought； lay inevitably between the closest； and their
intimacy was the worst presence of all。 For； “Oh dear；”
she thought； looking into a tobacconist’s window； “I don’t
care for any of them； and I don’t care for William； and
people say this is the thing that matters most； and I
can’t see what they mean by it。”
She looked desperately at the smoothbowled pipes；
and wondered—should she walk on by the Strand or by
the Embankment？ It was not a simple question； for it
concerned not different streets so much as different
streams of thought。 If she went by the Strand she would
force herself to think out the problem of the future； or
some mathematical problem； if she went by the river she
would certainly begin to think about things that didn’t
exist—the forest； the ocean beach； the leafy solitudes；
the magnanimous hero。 No； no； no！ A thousand times
no！—it wouldn’t do； there was something repulsive in
such thoughts at present； she must take something else；
she was out of that mood at present。 And then she thought
of Mary； the thought gave her confidence； even pleasure
of a sad sort； as if the triumph of Ralph and Mary proved
that the fault of her failure lay with herself and not with
life。 An indistinct idea that the sight of Mary might be of
help； bined with her natural trust in her； suggested a
232
Virginia Woolf
visit； for； surely； her liking was of a kind that implied
liking upon Mary’s side also。 After a moment’s hesitation
she decided； although she seldom acted upon impulse； to
act upon this one； and turned down a side street and
found Mary’s door。 But her reception was not encouraging；
clearly Mary didn’t want to see her； had no help to
impart； and the halfformed desire to confide in her was
quenched immediately。 She was slightly amused at her
own delusion； looked rather absentminded； and swung
her gloves to and fro； as if doling out the few minutes
accurately before she could say goodby。
Those few minutes might very well be spent in asking
for information as to the exact position of the Suffrage
Bill； or in expounding her own very sensible view of the
situation。 But there was a tone in her voice； or a shade in
her opinions； or a swing of her gloves which served to
irritate Mary Datchet； whose manner became increasingly
direct； abrupt； and even antagonistic。 She became conscious
of a wish to make Katharine realize the importance
of this work； which she discussed so coolly； as
though she； too； had sacrificed what Mary herself had
sacrificed。 The swinging of the gloves ceased； and
Katharine； after ten minutes； began to make movements
preliminary to departure。 At the sight of this； Mary was
aware—she was abnormally aware of things tonight—of
another very strong desire； Katharine was not to be allowed
to go； to disappear into the free； happy world of
irresponsible individuals。 She must be made to realize—
to feel。
“I don’t quite see；” she said； as if Katharine had challenged
her explicitly； “how； things being as they are； any
one can help trying； at least； to do something。”
“No。 But how are things？”
Mary pressed her lips； and smiled ironically； she had
Katharine at her mercy； she could； if she liked； discharge
upon her head wagonloads of revolting proof of the state
of things ignored by the casual； the amateur； the looker
on； the cynical observer of life at a distance。 And yet she
hesitated。 As usual； when she found herself in talk with
Katharine； she began to feel rapid alternations of opinion
about her； arrows of sensation striking strangely
through the envelope of personality； which shelters us so
233
Night and Day
conveniently from our fellows。 What an egoist； how aloof
she was！ And yet； not in her words； perhaps； but in her
voice； in her face； in her attitude； there were signs of a
soft brooding spirit； of a sensibility unblunted and profound；
playing over her thoughts and deeds； and investing
her manner with an habitual gentleness。 The arguments
and phrases of Mr。 Clacton fell flat against such
armor。
“You’ll be married； and you’ll have other things to think
of；” she said inconsequently； and with an accent of condescension。
She was not going to make Katharine understand
in a second； as she would； all she herself had learnt
at the cost of such pain。 No。 Katharine was to be happy；
Katharine was to be ignorant； Mary was to keep this knowledge
of the impersonal life for herself。 The thought of
her morning’s renunciation stung her conscience； and she
tried to expand once more into that impersonal condition
which was so lofty and so painless。 She must check
this desire to be an individual again； whose wishes were
in conflict with those of other people。 She repented of
her bitterness。
Katharine now renewed her signs of leavetaking； she
had drawn on one of her gloves； and looked about her as
if in search of some trivial saying to end with。 Wasn’t
there some picture； or clock； or chest of drawers which
might be singled out for notice？ something peaceable
and friendly to end the unfortable interview？ The
greenshaded lamp burnt in the corner； and illumined
books and pens and blottingpaper。 The whole aspect of
the place started another train of thought and struck her
as enviably free； in such a room one could work—one
could have a life of one’s own。
“I think you’re very lucky；” she observed。 “I envy you；
living alone and having your own things”—and engaged
in this exalted way； which had no recognition or engage
mentring； she added in her own mind。
Mary’s lips parted slightly。 She could not conceive in what
respects Katharine； who spoke sincerely； could envy her。
“I don’t think you’ve got any reason to envy me；” she
said。
“Perhaps one always envies other people；” Katharine
observed vaguely。
234
Virginia Woolf
“Well； but you’ve got everything that any one can want。”
Katharine remained silent。 She gazed into the fire quietly；
and without a trace of selfconsciousness。 The hostility
which she had divined in Mary’s tone had pletely
disappeared； and she forgot that she had been upon the
point of going。
“Well； I suppose I have；” she said at length。 “And yet I
sometimes think—” She paused； she did not know how
to express w