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After greeting her uncle and aunt and receiving； as usual；
a present of two sovereigns for “cab fares and dissipation”
from Uncle Trevor； whose favorite niece she was；
she changed her dress and wandered into Katharine’s room
to await her。 What a great lookingglass Katharine had；
she thought； and how mature all the arrangements upon
the dressingtable were pared to what she was used
to at home。 Glancing round； she thought that the bills
stuck upon a skewer and stood for ornament upon the
mantelpiece were astonishingly like Katharine； There
wasn’t a photograph of William anywhere to be seen。 The
room； with its bination of luxury and bareness； its
silk dressinggowns and crimson slippers； its shabby carpet
and bare walls； had a powerful air of Katharine herself；
she stood in the middle of the room and enjoyed the
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Night and Day
sensation； and then； with a desire to finger what her
cousin was in the habit of fingering； Cassandra began to
take down the books which stood in a row upon the shelf
above the bed。 In most houses this shelf is the ledge
upon which the last relics of religious belief lodge themselves
as if； late at night； in the heart of privacy； people；
skeptical by day； find solace in sipping one draught of
the old charm for such sorrows or perplexities as may
steal from their hidingplaces in the dark。 But there was
no hymnbook here。 By their battered covers and enigmatical
contents； Cassandra judged them to be old schoolbooks
belonging to Uncle Trevor； and piously； though
eccentrically； preserved by his daughter。 There was no
end； she thought； to the unexpectedness of Katharine。
She had once had a passion for geometry herself； and；
curled upon Katharine’s quilt； she became absorbed in
trying to remember how far she had forgotten what she
once knew。 Katharine； ing in a little later； found her
deep in this characteristic pursuit。
“My dear；” Cassandra exclaimed； shaking the book at
her cousin； “my whole life’s changed from this moment！ I
must write the man’s name down at once； or I shall forget—”
Whose name； what book； which life was changed
Katharine proceeded to ascertain。 She began to lay aside
her clothes hurriedly； for she was very late。
“May I sit and watch you？” Cassandra asked； shutting
up her book。 “I got ready on purpose。”
“Oh； you’re ready； are you？” said Katharine； half turning
in the midst of her operations； and looking at
Cassandra； who sat； clasping her knees； on the edge of
the bed。
“There are people dining here；” she said； taking in the
effect of Cassandra from a new point of view。 After an
interval； the distinction； the irregular charm； of the small
face with its long tapering nose and its bright oval eyes
were very notable。 The hair rose up off the forehead rather
stiffly； and； given a more careful treatment by hairdressers
and dressmakers； the light angular figure might possess
a likeness to a French lady of distinction in the eighteenth
century。
“Who’s ing to dinner？” Cassandra asked； anticipat
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Virginia Woolf
ing further possibilities of rapture。
“There’s William； and； I believe； Aunt Eleanor and Uncle
Aubrey。”
“I’m so glad William is ing。 Did he tell you that he
sent me his manuscript？ I think it’s wonderful—I think
he’s almost good enough for you； Katharine。”
“You shall sit next to him and tell him what you think
of him。”
“I shan’t dare do that；” Cassandra asserted。
“Why？ You’re not afraid of him； are you？”
“A little—because he’s connected with you。”
Katharine smiled。
“But then； with your wellknown fidelity； considering that
you’re staying here at least a fortnight； you won’t have
any illusions left about me by the time you go。 I give you
a week； Cassandra。 I shall see my power fading day by day。
Now it’s at the climax； but tomorrow it’ll have begun to
fade。 What am I to wear； I wonder？ Find me a blue dress；
Cassandra； over there in the long wardrobe。”
She spoke disconnectedly； handling brush and b； and
pulling out the little drawers in her dressingtable and
leaving them open。 Cassandra； sitting on the bed behind
her； saw the reflection of her cousin’s face in the looking
glass。 The face in the lookingglass was serious and intent；
apparently occupied with other things besides the
straightness of the parting which； however； was being driven
as straight as a Roman road through the dark hair。 Cassandra
was impressed again by Katharine’s maturity； and； as she
enveloped herself in the blue dress which filled almost the
whole of the long lookingglass with blue light and made
it the frame of a picture； holding not only the slightly
moving effigy of the beautiful woman； but shapes and colors
of objects reflected from the background； Cassandra
thought that no sight had ever been quite so romantic。 It
was all in keeping with the room and the house； and the
city round them； for her ears had not yet ceased to notice
the hum of distant wheels。
They went downstairs rather late； in spite of Katharine’s
extreme speed in getting ready。 To Cassandra’s ears the
buzz of voices inside the drawingroom was like the tuning
up of the instruments of the orchestra。 It seemed to
her that there were numbers of people in the room； and
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Night and Day
that they were strangers； and that they were beautiful
and dressed with the greatest distinction； although they
proved to be mostly her relations； and the distinction of
their clothing was confined； in the eyes of an impartial
observer； to the white waistcoat which Rodney wore。 But
they all rose simultaneously； which was by itself impressive；
and they all exclaimed； and shook hands； and she
was introduced to Mr。 Peyton； and the door sprang open；
and dinner was announced； and they filed off； William
Rodney offering her his slightly bent black arm； as she
had secretly hoped he would。 In short； had the scene
been looked at only through her eyes； it must have been
described as one of magical brilliancy。 The pattern of the
soupp