按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
she had； indeed； taken hold of the teakettle。
“Let me see；” Katharine said； “one puts hot water into
the cups first； doesn’t one？ You have some dodge of your
own； haven’t you； William； about making tea？”
Mary was half inclined to suspect that this was said in
order to conceal nervousness； but if so； the concealment
was unusually perfect。 Talk of marriage was dismissed。
Katharine might have been seated in her own drawing
room； controlling a situation which presented no sort of
difficulty to her trained mind。 Rather to her surprise； Mary
found herself making conversation with William about
old Italian pictures； while Katharine poured out tea； cut
cake； kept William’s plate supplied； without joining more
than was necessary in the conversation。 She seemed to
have taken possession of Mary’s room； and to handle the
cups as if they belonged to her。 But it was done so naturally
that it bred no resentment in Mary； on the contrary；
she found herself putting her hand on Katharine’s knee；
affectionately； for an instant。 Was there something maternal
in this assumption of control？ And thinking of
Katharine as one who would soon be married； these maternal
airs filled Mary’s mind with a new tenderness； and
even with awe。 Katharine seemed very much older and
more experienced than she was。
Meanwhile Rodney talked。 If his appearance was superficially
against him； it had the advantage of making his
solid merits something of a surprise。 He had kept notebooks；
he knew a great deal about pictures。 He could pare
different examples in different galleries； and his authoritative
answers to intelligent questions gained not a
little； Mary felt； from the smart taps which he dealt； as he
delivered them； upon the lumps of coal。 She was impressed。
“Your tea； William；” said Katharine gently。
He paused； gulped it down； obediently； and continued。
And then it struck Mary that Katharine； in the shade of
her broadbrimmed hat； and in the midst of the smoke；
and in the obscurity of her character； was； perhaps； smiling
to herself； not altogether in the maternal spirit。 What
she said was very simple； but her words； even “Your tea；
148
Virginia Woolf
William；” were set down as gently and cautiously and
exactly as the feet of a Persian cat stepping among China
ornaments。 For the second time that day Mary felt herself
baffled by something inscrutable in the character of a
person to whom she felt herself much attracted。 She
thought that if she were engaged to Katharine； she； too；
would find herself very soon using those fretful questions
with which William evidently teased his bride。 And
yet Katharine’s voice was humble。
“I wonder how you find the time to know all about
pictures as well as books？” she asked。
“How do I find the time？” William answered； delighted；
Mary guessed； at this little pliment。 “Why； I always
travel with a notebook。 And I ask my way to the picture
gallery the very first thing in the morning。 And then I
meet men； and talk to them。 There’s a man in my office
who knows all about the Flemish school。 I was telling
Miss Datchet about the Flemish school。 I picked up a lot
of it from him—it’s a way men have—Gibbons； his name
is。 You must meet him。 We’ll ask him to lunch。 And this
not caring about art；” he explained； turning to Mary； “it’s
one of Katharine’s poses； Miss Datchet。 Did you know she
posed？ She pretends that she’s never read Shakespeare。
And why should she read Shakespeare； since she IS
Shakespeare—Rosalind； you know；” and he gave his queer
little chuckle。 Somehow this pliment appeared very
oldfashioned and almost in bad taste。 Mary actually felt
herself blush； as if he had said “the sex” or “the ladies。”
Constrained； perhaps； by nervousness； Rodney continued
in the same vein。
“She knows enough—enough for all decent purposes。
What do you women want with learning； when you have
so much else—everything； I should say—everything。
Leave us something； eh； Katharine？”
“Leave you something？” said Katharine； apparently waking
from a brown study。 “I was thinking we must be going—”
“Is it tonight that Lady Ferrilby dines with us？ No； we
mustn’t be late；” said Rodney； rising。 “D’you know the
Ferrilbys； Miss Datchet？ They own Trantem Abbey；” he
added； for her information； as she looked doubtful。 “And
if Katharine makes herself very charming tonight；
perhaps’ll lend it to us for the honeymoon。”
149
Night and Day
“I agree that may be a reason。 Otherwise she’s a dull
woman；” said Katharine。 “At least；” she added； as if to
qualify her abruptness； “I find it difficult to talk to her。”
“Because you expect every one else to take all the
trouble。 I’ve seen her sit silent a whole evening；” he said；
turning to Mary； as he had frequently done already。 “Don’t
you find that； too？ Sometimes when we’re alone； I’ve
counted the time on my watch”—here he took out a large
gold watch； and tapped the glass—”the time between
one remark and the next。 And once I counted ten minutes
and twenty seconds； and then； if you’ll believe me；
she only said ‘Um！’”
“I’m sure I’m sorry；” Katharine apologized。 “I know it’s
a bad habit； but then； you see； at home—”
The rest of her excuse was cut short； so far as Mary was
concerned； by the closing of the door。 She fancied she
could hear William finding fresh fault on the stairs。 A
moment later； the doorbell rang again； and Katharine
reappeared； having left her purse on a chair。 She soon
found it； and said； pausing for a moment at the door； and
speaking differently as they were alone：
“I think being engaged is very bad for the character。”
She shook her purse in her hand until the coins jingled；
as if she alluded merely to this example of her forgetfulness。
But the remark puzzled Mary； it seemed to refer to
something else； and her manner had changed so strangely；
now that William was out of hearing； that she could not
help looking at her for an explanation。 She looked almost
stern； so that M