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in gloomy patience to await his dinner。 After sitting thus
for some minutes a small girl popped her head in to say；
“Mother says； aren’t you ing down； Ralph？ Uncle
Joseph—”
“They’re to bring my dinner up here；” said Ralph； peremptorily；
whereupon she vanished； leaving the door
ajar in her haste to be gone。 After Denham had waited
some minutes； in the course of which neither he nor the
rook took their eyes off the fire； he muttered a curse； ran
downstairs； intercepted the parlormaid； and cut himself
a slice of bread and cold meat。 As he did so； the dining
room door sprang open； a voice exclaimed “Ralph！” but
Ralph paid no attention to the voice； and made off upstairs
with his plate。 He set it down in a chair opposite
him； and ate with a ferocity that was due partly to anger
and partly to hunger。 His mother； then； was determined
not to respect his wishes； he was a person of no importance
in his own family； he was sent for and treated as a
child。 He reflected； with a growing sense of injury； that
18
Virginia Woolf
almost every one of his actions since opening the door of
his room had been won from the grasp of the family system。
By rights； he should have been sitting downstairs in
the drawingroom describing his afternoon’s adventures；
or listening to the afternoon’s adventures of other people；
the room itself； the gasfire； the armchair—all had been
fought for； the wretched bird； with half its feathers out
and one leg lamed by a cat； had been rescued under protest；
but what his family most resented； he reflected；
was his wish for privacy。 To dine alone； or to sit alone
after dinner； was flat rebellion； to be fought with every
weapon of underhand stealth or of open appeal。 Which
did he dislike most—deception or tears？ But； at any rate；
they could not rob him of his thoughts； they could not
make him say where he had been or whom he had seen。
That was his own affair； that； indeed； was a step entirely
in the right direction； and； lighting his pipe； and cutting
up the remains of his meal for the benefit of the rook；
Ralph calmed his rather excessive irritation and settled
down to think over his prospects。
This particular afternoon was a step in the right direc
tion； because it was part of his plan to get to know people
beyond the family circuit； just as it was part of his plan
to learn German this autumn； and to review legal books
for Mr。 Hilbery’s “Critical Review。” He had always made
plans since he was a small boy； for poverty； and the fact
that he was the eldest son of a large family； had given
him the habit of thinking of spring and summer； autumn
and winter； as so many stages in a prolonged campaign。
Although he was still under thirty； this forecasting habit
had marked two semicircular lines above his eyebrows；
which threatened； at this moment； to crease into their
wonted shapes。 But instead of settling down to think； he
rose； took a small piece of cardboard marked in large
letters with the word out； and hung it upon the handle of
his door。 This done； he sharpened a pencil； lit a reading
lamp and opened his book。 But still he hesitated to take
his seat。 He scratched the rook； he walked to the window；
he parted the curtains； and looked down upon the
city which lay； hazily luminous； beneath him。 He looked
across the vapors in the direction of Chelsea； looked fixedly
for a moment； and then returned to his chair。 But
19
Night and Day
the whole thickness of some learned counsel’s treatise
upon Torts did not screen him satisfactorily。 Through the
pages he saw a drawingroom； very empty and spacious；
he heard low voices； he saw women’s figures； he could
even smell the scent of the cedar log which flamed in the
grate。 His mind relaxed its tension； and seemed to be
giving out now what it had taken in unconsciously at the
time。 He could remember Mr。 Fortescue’s exact words； and
the rolling emphasis with which he delivered them； and
he began to repeat what Mr。 Fortescue had said； in Mr。
Fortescue’s own manner； about Manchester。 His mind then
began to wander about the house； and he wondered
whether there were other rooms like the drawingroom；
and he thought； inconsequently； how beautiful the bathroom
must be； and how leisurely it was—the life of these
wellkept people； who were； no doubt； still sitting in the
same room； only they had changed their clothes； and
little Mr。 Anning was there； and the aunt who would mind
if the glass of her father’s picture was broken。 Miss Hilbery
had changed her dress （“although she’s wearing such a
pretty one；” he heard her mother say）； and she was talk
ing to Mr。 Anning； who was well over forty； and bald into
the bargain； about books。 How peaceful and spacious it
was； and the peace possessed him so pletely that his
muscles slackened； his book drooped from his hand； and
he forgot that the hour of work was wasting minute by
minute。
He was roused by a creak upon the stair。 With a guilty
start he posed himself； frowned and looked intently at
the fiftysixth page of his volume。 A step paused outside
his door； and he knew that the person； whoever it might
be； was considering the placard； and debating whether to
honor its decree or not。 Certainly； policy advised him to sit
still in autocratic silence； for no custom can take root in a
family unless every breach of it is punished severely for
the first six months or so。 But Ralph was conscious of a
distinct wish to be interrupted； and his disappointment
was perceptible when he heard the creaking sound rather
farther down the stairs； as if his visitor had decided to
withdraw。 He rose； opened the door with unnecessary
abruptness； and waited on the landing。 The person stopped
simultaneously half a flight downstairs。
20
Virginia Woolf
“Ralph？” said a voice； inquiringly。
“Joan？”
“I was ing up； but I saw your notice。”
“Well； e along in； then。” He concealed his desire
beneath a tone as grudging as he could make it。
Joan came in； but she was careful to show； by standing