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group was saying。 Rodney； meanwhile； was talking about
the Elizabethan dramatists。
He was a curiouslooking man since； upon first sight；
especially if he chanced to be talking with animation； he
appeared； in some way； ridiculous； but； next moment； in
repose； his face； with its large nose； thin cheeks and lips
expressing the utmost sensibility； somehow recalled a
Roman head bound with laurel； cut upon a circle of semitransparent
reddish stone。 It had dignity and character。
By profession a clerk in a Government office； he was one
of those martyred spirits to whom literature is at once a
source of divine joy and of almost intolerable irritation。
Not content to rest in their love of it； they must attempt
to practise it themselves； and they are generally endowed
with very little facility in position。 They condemn
whatever they produce。 Moreover； the violence of their
feelings is such that they seldom meet with adequate
sympathy； and being rendered very sensitive by their cultivated
perceptions； suffer constant slights both to their
own persons and to the thing they worship。 But Rodney
could never resist making trial of the sympathies of any
one who seemed favorably disposed； and Denham’s praise
45
Night and Day
had stimulated his very susceptible vanity。
“You remember the passage just before the death of
the Duchess？” he continued； edging still closer to Denham；
and adjusting his elbow and knee in an incredibly angular
bination。 Here； Katharine； who had been cut off
by these maneuvers from all munication with the outer
world； rose； and seated herself upon the windowsill； where
she was joined by Mary Datchet。 The two young women
could thus survey the whole party。 Denham looked after
them； and made as if he were tearing handfuls of grass
up by the roots from the carpet。 But as it fell in accurately
with his conception of life that all one’s desires
were bound to be frustrated； he concentrated his mind
upon literature； and determined； philosophically； to get
what he could out of that。
Katharine was pleasantly excited。 A variety of courses
was open to her。 She knew several people slightly； and at
any moment one of them might rise from the floor and
e and speak to her； on the other hand； she might
select somebody for herself； or she might strike into
Rodney’s discourse； to which she was intermittently at
tentive。 She was conscious of Mary’s body beside her；
but； at the same time； the consciousness of being both
of them women made it unnecessary to speak to her。 But
Mary； feeling； as she had said； that Katharine was a “personality；”
wished so much to speak to her that in a few
moments she did。
“They’re exactly like a flock of sheep； aren’t they？” she
said； referring to the noise that rose from the scattered
bodies beneath her。
Katharine turned and smiled。
“I wonder what they’re making such a noise about？”
she said。
“The Elizabethans； I suppose。”
“No； I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the Elizabethans。
There！ Didn’t you hear them say； ‘Insurance Bill’？”
“I wonder why men always talk about politics？” Mary
speculated。 “I suppose； if we had votes； we should； too。”
“I dare say we should。 And you spend your life in getting
us votes； don’t you？”
“I do；” said Mary； stoutly。 “From ten to six every day
I’m at it。”
46
Virginia Woolf
Katharine looked at Ralph Denham； who was now pounding
his way through the metaphysics of metaphor with
Rodney； and was reminded of his talk that Sunday afternoon。
She connected him vaguely with Mary。
“I suppose you’re one of the people who think we should
all have professions；” she said； rather distantly； as if feeling
her way among the phantoms of an unknown world。
“Oh dear no；” said Mary at once。
“Well； I think I do；” Katharine continued； with half a
sigh。 “You will always be able to say that you’ve done
something； whereas； in a crowd like this； I feel rather
melancholy。”
“In a crowd？ Why in a crowd？” Mary asked； deepening
the two lines between her eyes； and hoisting herself nearer
to Katharine upon the windowsill。
“Don’t you see how many different things these people
care about？ And I want to beat them down—I only mean；”
she corrected herself； “that I want to assert myself； and
it’s difficult； if one hasn’t a profession。”
Mary smiled； thinking that to beat people down was a
process that should present no difficulty to Miss Katharine
Hilbery。 They knew each other so slightly that the beginning
of intimacy； which Katharine seemed to initiate by
talking about herself； had something solemn in it； and
they were silent； as if to decide whether to proceed or
not。 They tested the ground。
“Ah； but I want to trample upon their prostrate bodies！”
Katharine announced； a moment later； with a laugh；
as if at the train of thought which had led her to this
conclusion。
“One doesn’t necessarily trample upon people’s bodies
because one runs an office；” Mary remarked。
“No。 Perhaps not；” Katharine replied。 The conversation
lapsed； and Mary saw Katharine looking out into the room
rather moodily with closed lips； the desire to talk about
herself or to initiate a friendship having； apparently； left
her。 Mary was struck by her capacity for being thus easily
silent； and occupied with her own thoughts。 It was a
habit that spoke of loneliness and a mind thinking for
itself。 When Katharine remained silent Mary was slightly
embarrassed。
“Yes； they’re very like sheep；” she repeated； foolishly。
47
Night and Day
“And yet they are very clever—at least；” Katharine
added； “I suppose they have all read Webster。”
“Surely you don’t think that a proof of cleverness？ I’ve
read Webster； I’ve read Ben Jonson； but I don’t think
myself clever—not exactly； at least。”
“I think you must be very clever；” Katharine observed。
“Why？ Because I run an office？”
“I wasn’t thinking of that。 I was thinking how you live
alone in this room； and have parties。”