and derived some pleasure from the reflection that
she could rejoice equally in solitude； and in the presence
of the many very different people who were now making
their way； by divers paths； across London to the spot
where she was sitting。
As she ran her needle in and out of the wool； she thought
of the various stages in her own life which made her
present position seem the culmination of successive
miracles。 She thought of her clerical father in his country
parsonage； and of her mother’s death； and of her own
determination to obtain education； and of her college
life； which had merged； not so very long ago； in the won
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Virginia Woolf
derful maze of London； which still seemed to her； in spite
of her constitutional levelheadedness； like a vast electric
light； casting radiance upon the myriads of men and
women who crowded round it。 And here she was at the
very center of it all； that center which was constantly in
the minds of people in remote Canadian forests and on
the plains of India； when their thoughts turned to England。
The nine mellow strokes； by which she was now
apprised of the hour； were a message from the great clock
at Westminster itself。 As the last of them died away； there
was a firm knocking on her own door； and she rose and
opened it。 She returned to the room； with a look of steady
pleasure in her eyes； and she was talking to Ralph Denham；
who followed her。
“Alone？” he said； as if he were pleasantly surprised by
that fact。
“I am sometimes alone；” she replied。
“But you expect a great many people；” he added； looking
round him。 “It’s like a room on the stage。 Who is it
tonight？”
“William Rodney； upon the Elizabethan use of meta
phor。 I expect a good solid paper； with plenty of quotations
from the classics。”
Ralph warmed his hands at the fire； which was flapping
bravely in the grate； while Mary took up her stocking
again。
“I suppose you are the only woman in London who darns
her own stockings；” he observed。
“I’m only one of a great many thousands really；” she
replied； “though I must admit that I was thinking myself
very remarkable when you came in。 And now that you’re
here I don’t think myself remarkable at all。 How horrid of
you！ But I’m afraid you’re much more remarkable than I
am。 You’ve done much more than I’ve done。”
“If that’s your standard； you’ve nothing to be proud
of；” said Ralph grimly。
“Well； I must reflect with Emerson that it’s being and
not doing that matters；” she continued。
“Emerson？” Ralph exclaimed； with derision。 “You don’t
mean to say you read Emerson？”
“Perhaps it wasn’t Emerson； but why shouldn’t I read
Emerson？” she asked； with a tinge of anxiety。
39
Night and Day
“There’s no reason that I know of。 It’s the bination
that’s odd—books and stockings。 The bination is very
odd。” But it seemed to remend itself to him。 Mary gave
a little laugh； expressive of happiness； and the particular
stitches that she was now putting into her work appeared
to her to be done with singular grace and felicity。 She held
out the stocking and looked at it approvingly。
“You always say that；” she said。 “I assure you it’s a
mon ‘bination；’ as you call it； in the houses of
the clergy。 The only thing that’s odd about me is that I
enjoy them both—Emerson and the stocking。”
A knock was heard； and Ralph exclaimed：
“Damn those people！ I wish they weren’t ing！”
“It’s only Mr。 Turner； on the floor below；” said Mary； and
she felt grateful to Mr。 Turner for having alarmed Ralph；
and for having given a false alarm。
“Will there be a crowd？” Ralph asked； after a pause。
“There’ll be the Morrises and the Crashaws； and Dick
Osborne； and Septimus； and all that set。 Katharine Hilbery
is ing； by the way； so William Rodney told me。”
“Katharine Hilbery！” Ralph exclaimed。
“You know her？” Mary asked； with some surprise。
“I went to a teaparty at her house。”
Mary pressed him to tell her all about it； and Ralph was
not at all unwilling to exhibit proofs of the extent of his
knowledge。 He described the scene with certain additions
and exaggerations which interested Mary very much。
“But； in spite of what you say； I do admire her；” she
said。 “I’ve only seen her once or twice； but she seems to
me to be what one calls a ‘personality。’”
“I didn’t mean to abuse her。 I only felt that she wasn’t
very sympathetic to me。”
“They say she’s going to marry that queer creature
Rodney。”
“Marry Rodney？ Then she must be more deluded than I
thought her。”
“Now that’s my door； all right；” Mary exclaimed； carefully
putting her wools away； as a succession of knocks
reverberated unnecessarily； acpanied by a sound of
people stamping their feet and laughing。 A moment later
the room was full of young men and women； who came in
with a peculiar look of expectation； exclaimed “Oh！” when
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Virginia Woolf
they saw Denham； and then stood still； gaping rather
foolishly。
The room very soon contained between twenty and thirty
people； who found seats for the most part upon the floor；
occupying the mattresses； and hunching themselves together
into triangular shapes。 They were all young and
some of them seemed to make a protest by their hair and
dress； and something somber and truculent in the expression
of their faces； against the more normal type；
who would have passed unnoticed in an omnibus or an
underground railway。 It was notable that the talk was
confined to groups； and was； at first； entirely spasmodic
in character； and muttered in undertones as if the speakers
were suspicious of their fellowguests。
Katharine Hilbery came in rather late； and took up a
position on the floor； with her back against the wall。 She
looked round quickly； recognized about half a dozen
people； to whom she nodded； but failed to see Ralph； or；
if so； had already forgotten to attach any name to him。
But in a second these heterogeneous elements were all
united by the voice of Mr。 Rodney； who suddenly strode
up to the table； and began very rapidly in highstrained
tones：
“In undertaking to speak of the Elizabethan use of metaphor
in poetry—”
All the different heads swung slightly or steadied themselves
into a position in which they could gaze straight
at the speaker’s face； and the same rather solemn expression
was visible on all of them。 But； at the same time；
even the faces that were most exposed to view； and therefore
most tautly under control； disclosed a sudden impulsive
tremor which； unless directly checked； would have
developed into an outburst of laughter。 The first sight of
Mr。 Rodney was irresistibly ludicrous。 He was very red in
the face； whether from the cool November night or nervousness；
and every movement； from the way he wrung
his hands to the way he jerked his head to right and left；
as though a vision drew him now to the door； now to the
window； bespoke his horrible disfort under the stare
of so many eyes。 He was scrupulously well dressed； and a
pearl in the center of his tie seemed to give him a touch
of aristocratic opulence。 But the rather prominent eyes
41
Night and Day
and the impulsive stammering manner； which seemed to
indicate a torrent of ideas intermittently pressing for utterance
and always checked in their course by a clutch of
nervousness； drew no pity； as in the case of a more imposing
personage； but a desire to laugh； which was； however；
entirely lacking in malice。 Mr。 Rodney was evidently
so painfully conscious of the oddity of his appearance；
and his very redness and the starts to which his body was
liable gave such proof of his own disfort； that there
was something endearing in this ridiculous susceptibility；
although most people would probably have echoed
Denham’s private exclamation； “Fancy marrying a creature
like that！”
His paper was carefully written out； but in spite of this
precaution Mr。 Rodney managed to turn over two sheets
instead of one； to choose the wrong sentence where two
were written together； and to discover his own handwriting
suddenly illegible。 When he found himself possessed
of a coherent passage； he shook it at his audience almost
aggressively； and then fumbled for another。 After a distressing
search a fresh discovery would be made； and
produced in the same way； until； by means of repeated
attacks； he had stirred his audience to a degree of animation
quite remarkable in these gatherings。 Whether
they were stirred by his enthusiasm for poetry or by the
contortions which a human being was going through for
their benefit； it would be hard to say。 At length Mr。 Rodney
sat down impulsively in the middle of a sentence； and；
after a pause of bewilderment； the audience expressed
its relief at being able to laugh aloud in a decided outburst
of applause。
Mr。 Rodney acknowledged this with a wild glance round
him； and； instead of waiting to answer questions； he
jumped up； thrust himself through the seated b