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“I wasn’t thinking of that。 I was thinking how you live
alone in this room； and have parties。”
Mary reflected for a second。
“It means； chiefly； a power of being disagreeable to
one’s own family； I think。 I have that； perhaps。 I didn’t
want to live at home； and I told my father。 He didn’t like
it… 。 But then I have a sister； and you haven’t； have
you？”
“No； I haven’t any sisters。”
“You are writing a life of your grandfather？” Mary pursued。
Katharine seemed instantly to be confronted by some
familiar thought from which she wished to escape。 She
replied； “Yes； I am helping my mother；” in such a way
that Mary felt herself baffled； and put back again into
the position in which she had been at the beginning of
their talk。 It seemed to her that Katharine possessed a
curious power of drawing near and receding； which sent
alternate emotions through her far more quickly than was
usual； and kept her in a condition of curious alertness。
Desiring to classify her； Mary bethought her of the convenient
term “egoist。”
“She’s an egoist；” she said to herself； and stored that
word up to give to Ralph one day when； as it would certainly
fall out； they were discussing Miss Hilbery。
“Heavens； what a mess there’ll be tomorrow morning！”
Katharine exclaimed。 “I hope you don’t sleep in this room；
Miss Datchet？”
Mary laughed。
“What are you laughing at？” Katharine demanded。
“I won’t tell you。”
“Let me guess。 You were laughing because you thought
I’d changed the conversation？”
“No。”
“Because you think—” She paused。
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Virginia Woolf
“If you want to know； I was laughing at the way you
said Miss Datchet。”
“Mary； then。 Mary； Mary； Mary。”
So saying； Katharine drew back the curtain in order；
perhaps； to conceal the momentary flush of pleasure
which is caused by ing perceptibly nearer to another
person。
“Mary Datchet；” said Mary。 “It’s not such an imposing
name as Katharine Hilbery； I’m afraid。”
They both looked out of the window； first up at the
hard silver moon； stationary among a hurry of little grey
blue clouds； and then down upon the roofs of London；
with all their upright chimneys； and then below them at
the empty moonlit pavement of the street； upon which
the joint of each pavingstone was clearly marked out。
Mary then saw Katharine raise her eyes again to the moon；
with a contemplative look in them； as though she were
setting that moon against the moon of other nights； held
in memory。 Some one in the room behind them made a
joke about stargazing； which destroyed their pleasure in
it； and they looked back into the room again。
Ralph had been watching for this moment； and he instantly
produced his sentence。
“I wonder； Miss Hilbery； whether you remembered to
get that picture glazed？” His voice showed that the question
was one that had been prepared。
“Oh； you idiot！” Mary exclaimed； very nearly aloud； with
a sense that Ralph had said something very stupid。 So；
after three lessons in Latin grammar； one might correct a
fellow student； whose knowledge did not embrace the
ablative of “mensa。”
“Picture—what picture？” Katharine asked。 “Oh； at home；
you mean—that Sunday afternoon。 Was it the day Mr。
Fortescue came？ Yes； I think I remembered it。”
The three of them stood for a moment awkwardly silent；
and then Mary left them in order to see that the
great pitcher of coffee was properly handled； for beneath
all her education she preserved the anxieties of one who
owns china。
Ralph could think of nothing further to say； but could
one have stripped off his mask of flesh； one would have
seen that his willpower was rigidly set upon a single
49
Night and Day
object—that Miss Hilbery should obey him。 He wished
her to stay there until； by some measures not yet apparent
to him； he had conquered her interest。 These states
of mind transmit themselves very often without the use
of language； and it was evident to Katharine that this
young man had fixed his mind upon her。 She instantly
recalled her first impressions of him； and saw herself again
proffering family relics。 She reverted to the state of mind
in which he had left her that Sunday afternoon。 She supposed
that he judged her very severely。 She argued naturally
that； if this were the case； the burden of the conversation
should rest with him。 But she submitted so far as
to stand perfectly still； her eyes upon the opposite wall；
and her lips very nearly closed； though the desire to laugh
stirred them slightly。
“You know the names of the stars； I suppose？” Denham
remarked； and from the tone of his voice one might have
thought that he grudged Katharine the knowledge he attributed
to her。
She kept her voice steady with some difficulty。
“I know how to find the Pole star if I’m lost。”
“I don’t suppose that often happens to you。”
“No。 Nothing interesting ever happens to me；” she said。
“I think you make a system of saying disagreeable things；
Miss Hilbery；” he broke out； again going further than he
meant to。 “I suppose it’s one of the characteristics of your
class。 They never talk seriously to their inferiors。”
Whether it was that they were meeting on neutral ground
tonight； or whether the carelessness of an old grey coat
that Denham wore gave an ease to his bearing that he
lacked in conventional dress； Katharine certainly felt no
impulse to consider him outside the particular set in which
she lived。
“In what sense are you my inferior？” she asked； looking
at him gravely； as though honestly searching for his meaning。
The look gave him great pleasure。 For the first time
he felt himself on perfectly equal terms with a woman
whom he wished to think well of him； although he could
not have explained why her opinion of him mattered one
way or another。 Perhaps； after all； he only wanted to
have something of her to take home to think about。 But
he was not destined to profit by his advantage。
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Virginia Woolf
“I don’t th