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glasses； have you？ Edward and Christopher mean to make
you shoot。 Can you shoot？ I shouldn’t think so—”
“Look here； you must explain；” said Ralph。 “Who are
these young men？ Where am I staying？”
“You are staying with us； of course；” she said boldly。
“Of course； you’re staying with us—you don’t mind ing；
do you？”
“If I had； I shouldn’t have e；” he said sturdily。 They
walked on in silence； Mary took care not to break it for a
time。 She wished Ralph to feel； as she thought he would；
all the fresh delights of the earth and air。 She was right。
158
Virginia Woolf
In a moment he expressed his pleasure； much to her fort。
“This is the sort of country I thought you’d live in；
Mary；” he said； pushing his hat back on his head； and
looking about him。 “Real country。 No gentlemen’s seats。”
He snuffed the air； and felt more keenly than he had
done for many weeks the pleasure of owning a body。
“Now we have to find our way through a hedge；” said
Mary。 In the gap of the hedge Ralph tore up a poacher’s
wire； set across a hole to trap a rabbit。
“It’s quite right that they should poach；” said Mary；
watching him tugging at the wire。 “I wonder whether it
was Alfred Duggins or Sid Rankin？ How can one expect
them not to； when they only make fifteen shillings a
week？ Fifteen shillings a week；” she repeated； ing
out on the other side of the hedge； and running her fingers
through her hair to rid herself of a bramble which
had attached itself to her。 “I could live on fifteen shillings
a week—easily。”
“Could you？” said Ralph。 “I don’t believe you could；”
he added。
“Oh yes。 They have a cottage thrown in； and a garden
where one can grow vegetables。 It wouldn’t be half bad；”
said Mary； with a soberness which impressed Ralph very much。
“But you’d get tired of it；” he urged。
“I sometimes think it’s the only thing one would never
get tired of；” she replied。
The idea of a cottage where one grew one’s own vegetables
and lived on fifteen shillings a week； filled Ralph
with an extraordinary sense of rest and satisfaction。
“But wouldn’t it be on the main road； or next door to a
woman with six squalling children； who’d always be hanging
her washing out to dry across your garden？”
“The cottage I’m thinking of stands by itself in a little
orchard。”
“And what about the Suffrage？” he asked； attempting
sarcasm。
“Oh； there are other things in the world besides the
Suffrage；” she replied； in an offhand manner which was
slightly mysterious。
Ralph fell silent。 It annoyed him that she should have
plans of which he knew nothing； but he felt that he had
159
Night and Day
no right to press her further。 His mind settled upon the
idea of life in a country cottage。 Conceivably； for he could
not examine into it now； here lay a tremendous possibility；
a solution of many problems。 He struck his stick upon
the earth； and stared through the dusk at the shape of
the country。
“D’you know the points of the pass？” he asked。
“Well； of course；” said Mary。 “What d’you take me for？—
a Cockney like you？” She then told him exactly where the
north lay； and where the south。
“It’s my native land； this；” she said。 “I could smell my
way about it blindfold。”
As if to prove this boast； she walked a little quicker； so
that Ralph found it difficult to keep pace with her。 At the
same time； he felt drawn to her as he had never been
before； partly； no doubt； because she was more independent
of him than in London； and seemed to be attached
firmly to a world where he had no place at all。 Now the
dusk had fallen to such an extent that he had to follow
her implicitly； and even lean his hand on her shoulder
when they jumped a bank into a very narrow lane。 And he
felt curiously shy of her when she began to shout through
her hands at a spot of light which swung upon the mist
in a neighboring field。 He shouted； too； and the light
stood still。
“That’s Christopher； e in already； and gone to feed
his chickens；” she said。
She introduced him to Ralph； who could see only a tall
figure in gaiters； rising from a fluttering circle of soft feathery
bodies； upon whom the light fell in wavering discs；
calling out now a bright spot of yellow； now one of greenish
black and scarlet。 Mary dipped her hand in the bucket
he carried； and was at once the center of a circle also； and
as she cast her grain she talked alternately to the birds
and to her brother； in the same clucking； halfinarticulate
voice； as it sounded to Ralph； standing on the outskirts of
the fluttering feathers in his black overcoat。
He had removed his overcoat by the time they sat round
the dinnertable； but nevertheless he looked very strange
among the others。 A country life and breeding had preserved
in them all a look which Mary hesitated to call
either innocent or youthful； as she pared them； now
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Virginia Woolf
sitting round in an oval； softly illuminated by candlelight；
and yet it was something of the kind； yes； even in
the case of the Rector himself。 Though superficially marked
with lines； his face was a clear pink； and his blue eyes
had the longsighted； peaceful expression of eyes seeking
the turn of the road； or a distant light through rain；
or the darkness of winter。 She looked at Ralph。 He had
never appeared to her more concentrated and full of purpose；
as if behind his forehead were massed so much
experience that he could choose for himself which part
of it he would display and which part he would keep to
himself。 pared with that dark and stern countenance；
her brothers’ faces； bending low over their soupplates；
were mere circles of pink； unmolded flesh。
“You came by the 3。10； Mr。 Denham？” said the Reverend
Wyndham Datchet； tucking his napkin into his collar；
so that almost the whole of his body was concealed by a
large white diamond。 “They treat us very well； on the
whole。 Considering the increase of traffic； they treat us
very well indeed。 I have the curiosi