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closed them again。 Then she said； very tentatively：
“Aren’t you happy； Ralph？”
“No。 Are you？ Perhaps I’m as happy as most people；
though。 God knows whether I’m happy or not。 What is
happiness？”
23
Night and Day
He glanced with half a smile； in spite of his gloomy
irritation； at his sister。 She looked； as usual； as if she
were weighing one thing with another； and balancing
them together before she made up her mind。
“Happiness；” she remarked at length enigmatically；
rather as if she were sampling the word； and then she
paused。 She paused for a considerable space； as if she
were considering happiness in all its bearings。 “Hilda was
here today；” she suddenly resumed； as if they had never
mentioned happiness。 “She brought Bobbie—he’s a fine
boy now。” Ralph observed； with an amusement that had
a tinge of irony in it； that she was now going to sidle
away quickly from this dangerous approach to intimacy
on to topics of general and family interest。 Nevertheless；
he reflected； she was the only one of his family with
whom he found it possible to discuss happiness； although
he might very well have discussed happiness with Miss
Hilbery at their first meeting。 He looked critically at Joan；
and wished that she did not look so provincial or suburban
in her high green dress with the faded trimming； so
patient； and almost resigned。 He began to wish to tell
her about the Hilberys in order to abuse them； for in the
miniature battle which so often rages between two quickly
following impressions of life； the life of the Hilberys was
getting the better of the life of the Denhams in his mind；
and he wanted to assure himself that there was some
quality in which Joan infinitely surpassed Miss Hilbery。
He should have felt that his own sister was more original；
and had greater vitality than Miss Hilbery had； but
his main impression of Katharine now was of a person of
great vitality and posure； and at the moment he could
not perceive what poor dear Joan had gained from the
fact that she was the granddaughter of a man who kept a
shop； and herself earned her own living。 The infinite
dreariness and sordidness of their life oppressed him in
spite of his fundamental belief that； as a family； they
were somehow remarkable。
“Shall you talk to mother？” Joan inquired。 “Because；
you see； the thing’s got to be settled； one way or another。
Charles must write to Uncle John if he’s going
there。”
Ralph sighed impatiently。
24
Virginia Woolf
“I suppose it doesn’t much matter either way；” he exclaimed。
“He’s doomed to misery in the long run。”
A slight flush came into Joan’s cheek。
“You know you’re talking nonsense；” she said。 “It doesn’t
hurt any one to have to earn their own living。 I’m very
glad I have to earn mine。”
Ralph was pleased that she should feel this； and wished
her to continue； but he went on； perversely enough。
“Isn’t that only because you’ve forgotten how to enjoy
yourself？ You never have time for anything decent—”
“As for instance？”
“Well； going for walks； or music； or books； or seeing
interesting people。 You never do anything that’s really
worth doing any more than I do。”
“I always think you could make this room much nicer； if
you liked；” she observed。
“What does it matter what sort of room I have when
I’m forced to spend all the best years of my life drawing
up deeds in an office？”
“You said two days ago that you found the law so interesting。”
“So it is if one could afford to know anything about it。”
（“That’s Herbert only just going to bed now；” Joan interposed；
as a door on the landing slammed vigorously。
“And then he won’t get up in the morning。”）
Ralph looked at the ceiling； and shut his lips closely
together。 Why； he wondered； could Joan never for one
moment detach her mind from the details of domestic
life？ It seemed to him that she was getting more and
more enmeshed in them； and capable of shorter and less
frequent flights into the outer world； and yet she was
only thirtythree。
“D’you ever pay calls now？” he asked abruptly。
“I don’t often have the time。 Why do you ask？”
“It might be a good thing； to get to know new people；
that’s all。”
“Poor Ralph！” said Joan suddenly； with a smile。 “You
think your sister’s getting very old and very dull—that’s
it； isn’t it？”
“I don’t think anything of the kind；” he said stoutly；
but he flushed。 “But you lead a dog’s life； Joan。 When
you’re not working in an office； you’re worrying over the
25
Night and Day
rest of us。 And I’m not much good to you； I’m afraid。”
Joan rose； and stood for a moment warming her hands；
and； apparently； meditating as to whether she should say
anything more or not。 A feeling of great intimacy united
the brother and sister； and the semicircular lines above
their eyebrows disappeared。 No； there was nothing more
to be said on either side。 Joan brushed her brother’s head
with her hand as she passed him； murmured good night；
and left the room。 For some minutes after she had gone
Ralph lay quiescent； resting his head on his hand； but
gradually his eyes filled with thought； and the line reappeared
on his brow； as the pleasant impression of panionship
and ancient sympathy waned； and he was left
to think on alone。
After a time he opened his book； and read on steadily；
glancing once or twice at his watch； as if he had set
himself a task to be acplished in a certain measure of
time。 Now and then he heard voices in the house； and the
closing of bedroom doors； which showed that the building；
at the top of which he sat； was inhabited in every
one of its cells。 When midnight struck； Ralph shut his
book； and with a candle in his hand； descended to the
ground floor； to ascertain that all lights were extinct and
all doors locked。 It was a threadbare； wellworn house
that he thus examined； as if the inmates had grazed down
all luxuriance and plenty to the verge of decency； and in
the night； bereft of life； bare places and ancient blemishes
were unpleasantly visible。 Katharine Hilbery； he
thought； would condemn it offhand。
26
Virginia Woolf
CHAPTER III
Denham had accused Katharine Hilbery of belonging to
one of the most distinguished families in England； and if
any one will take the trouble to consult Mr。 Galton’s “Hereditary
Genius；” he will find that this assertion is not far
from the truth。 The Alardyces； the Hilberys； the
Millingtons； and the Otways seem to prove that intellect
is a possession which can be tossed from one member of
a certain group to another almost indefinitely； and with
apparent certainty that the brilliant gift will be safely
caught and held by nine out of ten of the privileged race。
They had been conspicuous judges and admirals； lawyers
and servants of the State for some years before the richness
of the soil culminated in the rarest flower that any
family can boast； a great writer； a poet eminent among
the poets of England； a Richard Alardyce； and having produced
him； they proved once more the amazing virtues of
their race by proceeding unconcernedly again with their
usual task of breeding distinguished men。 They had sailed
with Sir John Franklin to the North Pole； and ridden with
Havelock to the Relief of Lucknow； and when they were
not lighthouses firmly based on rock for the guidance of
their generation； they were steady； serviceable candles；
illuminating the ordinary chambers of daily life。 Whatever
profession you looked at； there was a Warburton or
an Alardyce； a Millington or a Hilbery somewhere in authority
and prominence。
It may be said； indeed； that English society being what
it is； no very great merit is required； once you bear a
wellknown name； to put you into a position where it is
easier on the whole to be eminent than obscure。 And if
this is true of the sons； even the daughters； even in the
nieenth century； are apt to bee people of importance—
philanthropists and educationalists