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“Mary；” said Ralph； directly Mr。 Bast had shut the
door and they were alone together。 “Mary；” he repeated。
But the old difficulty of speaking to Mary without reserve
prevented him from continuing。 His desire to proclaim
his love for Katharine was still strong in him； but he had
felt； directly he saw Mary； that he could not share it with
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Night and Day
her。 The feeling increased as he sat talking to Mr。 Bast。
And yet all the time he was thinking of Katharine； and
marveling at his love。 The tone in which he spoke Mary’s
name was harsh。
“What is it； Ralph？” she asked； startled by his tone。 She
looked at him anxiously； and her little frown showed that
she was trying painfully to understand him； and was
puzzled。 He could feel her groping for his meaning； and
he was annoyed with her； and thought how he had always
found her slow； painstaking； and clumsy。 He had
behaved badly to her； too； which made his irritation the
more acute。 Without waiting for him to answer； she rose
as if his answer were indifferent to her； and began to put
in order some papers that Mr。 Bast had left on the
table。 She hummed a scrap of a tune under her breath；
and moved about the room as if she were occupied in
making things tidy； and had no other concern。
“You’ll stay and dine？” she said casually； returning to
her seat。
“No；” Ralph replied。 She did not press him further。 They
sat side by side without speaking； and Mary reached her
hand for her work basket； and took out her sewing and
threaded a needle。
“That’s a clever young man；” Ralph observed； referring
to Mr。 Bast。
“I’m glad you thought so。 It’s tremendously interesting
work； and considering everything； I think we’ve done very
well。 But I’m inclined to agree with you； we ought to try
to be more conciliatory。 We’re absurdly strict。 It’s difficult
to see that there may be sense in what one’s opponents
say； though they are one’s opponents。 Horace
Bast is certainly too unpromising。 I mustn’t forget
to see that he writes that letter to Judson。 You’re too
busy； I suppose； to e on to our mittee？” She spoke
in the most impersonal manner。
“I may be out of town；” Ralph replied； with equal distance
of manner。
“Our executive meets every week； of course；” she observed。
“But some of our members don’t e more than
once a month。 Members of Parliament are the worst； it
was a mistake； I think； to ask them。”
She went on sewing in silence。
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Virginia Woolf
“You’ve not taken your quinine；” she said； looking up
and seeing the tabloids upon the mantelpiece。
“I don’t want it；” said Ralph shortly。
“Well； you know best；” she replied tranquilly。
“Mary； I’m a brute！” he exclaimed。 “Here I e and
waste your time； and do nothing but make myself disagreeable。”
“A cold ing on does make one feel wretched；” she
replied。
“I’ve not got a cold。 That was a lie。 There’s nothing the
matter with me。 I’m mad； I suppose。 I ought to have had
the decency to keep away。 But I wanted to see you—I
wanted to tell you—I’m in love； Mary。” He spoke the word；
but； as he spoke it； it seemed robbed of substance。
“In love； are you？” she said quietly。 “I’m glad； Ralph。”
“I suppose I’m in love。 Anyhow； I’m out of my mind。 I
can’t think； I can’t work； I don’t care a hang for anything
in the world。 Good Heavens； Mary！ I’m in torment！ One
moment I’m happy； next I’m miserable。 I hate her for half
an hour； then I’d give my whole life to be with her for ten
minutes； all the time I don’t know what I feel； or why I
feel it； it’s insanity； and yet it’s perfectly reasonable。 Can
you make any sense of it？ Can you see what’s happened？
I’m raving； I know； don’t listen； Mary； go on with your
work。”
He rose and began； as usual； to pace up and down the
room。 He knew that what he had just said bore very little
resemblance to what he felt； for Mary’s presence acted
upon him like a very strong mag； drawing from him
certain expressions which were not those he made use of
when he spoke to himself； nor did they represent his
deepest feelings。 He felt a little contempt for himself at
having spoken thus； but somehow he had been forced
into speech。
“Do sit down；” said Mary suddenly。 “You make me so—
” She spoke with unusual irritability； and Ralph； noticing
it with surprise； sat down at once。
“You haven’t told me her name—you’d rather not； I
suppose？”
“Her name？ Katharine Hilbery。”
“But she’s engaged—”
“To Rodney。 They’re to be married in September。”
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“I see；” said Mary。 But in truth the calm of his manner；
now that he was sitting down once more； wrapt her in
the presence of something which she felt to be so strong；
so mysterious； so incalculable； that she scarcely dared to
attempt to intercept it by any word or question that she
was able to frame。 She looked at Ralph blankly； with a
kind of awe in her face； her lips slightly parted； and her
brows raised。 He was apparently quite unconscious of her
gaze。 Then； as if she could look no longer； she leant back
in her chair； and half closed her eyes。 The distance between
them hurt her terribly； one thing after another
came into her mind； tempting her to assail Ralph with
questions； to force him to confide in her； and to enjoy
once more his intimacy。 But she rejected every impulse；
for she could not speak without doing violence to some
reserve which had grown between them； putting them a
little far from each other； so that he seemed to her dignified
and remote； like a person she no longer knew well。
“Is there anything that I could do for you？” she asked
gently； and even with courtesy； at length。
“You could see her—no； that’s not what I want； you
mustn’t bother about me； Mary。” He； too； spoke very gently。
“I’m afraid no third person can do anything to help；”
she added。
“No；” he shook his head。 “Katharine was saying today
how lonely we are。” She saw the effort with which he
spoke Kath