note in her laughter。
“You may laugh； Katharine； but I can tell you that if
any of your friends saw us together at this time of night
they would talk about it； and I should find that very
disagreeable。 But why do you laugh？”
“I don’t know。 Because you’re such a queer mixture； I
think。 You’re half poet and half old maid。”
“I know I always seem to you highly ridiculous。 But I
can’t help having inherited certain traditions and trying
to put them into practice。”
“Nonsense； William。 You may e of the oldest family
in Devonshire； but that’s no reason why you should mind
being seen alone with me on the Embankment。”
“I’m ten years older than you are； Katharine； and I know
more of the world than you do。”
“Very well。 Leave me and go home。”
Rodney looked back over his shoulder and perceived
that they were being followed at a short distance by a
taxicab； which evidently awaited his summons。 Katharine
saw it； too； and exclaimed：
“Don’t call that cab for me； William。 I shall walk。”
“Nonsense； Katharine； you’ll do nothing of the kind。 It’s
nearly twelve o’clock； and we’ve walked too far as it is。”
Katharine laughed and walked on so quickly that both
Rodney and the taxicab had to increase their pace to
keep up with her。
“Now； William；” she said； “if people see me racing along
the Embankment like this they will talk。 You had far better
say goodnight； if you don’t want people to talk。”
At this William beckoned； with a despotic gesture； to
the cab with one hand； and with the other he brought
Katharine to a standstill。
“Don’t let the man see us struggling； for God’s sake！”
he murmured。 Katharine stood for a moment quite still。
“There’s more of the old maid in you than the poet；”
she observed briefly。
William shut the door sharply； gave the address to the
driver； and turned away； lifting his hat punctiliously high
55
Night and Day
in farewell to the invisible lady。
He looked back after the cab twice； suspiciously； half
expecting that she would stop it and dismount； but it
bore her swiftly on； and was soon out of sight。 William
felt in the mood for a short soliloquy of indignation； for
Katharine had contrived to exasperate him in more ways
than one。
“Of all the unreasonable； inconsiderate creatures I’ve
ever known； she’s the worst！” he exclaimed to himself；
striding back along the Embankment。 “Heaven forbid that
I should ever make a fool of myself with her again。 Why；
I’d sooner marry the daughter of my landlady than
Katharine Hilbery！ She’d leave me not a moment’s peace—
and she’d never understand me—never； never； never！”
Uttered aloud and with vehemence so that the stars of
Heaven might hear； for there was no human being at hand；
these sentiments sounded satisfactorily irrefutable。
Rodney quieted down； and walked on in silence； until he
perceived some one approaching him； who had something；
either in his walk or his dress； which proclaimed
that he was one of William’s acquaintances before it was
possible to tell which of them he was。 It was Denham
who； having parted from Sandys at the bottom of his
staircase； was now walking to the Tube at Charing Cross；
deep in the thoughts which his talk with Sandys had suggested。
He had forgotten the meeting at Mary Datchet’s
rooms； he had forgotten Rodney； and metaphors and Elizabethan
drama； and could have sworn that he had forgotten
Katharine Hilbery； too； although that was more disputable。
His mind was scaling the highest pinnacles of
its alps； where there was only starlight and the untrodden
snow。 He cast strange eyes upon Rodney； as they encountered
each other beneath a lamppost。
“Ha！” Rodney exclaimed。
If he had been in full possession of his mind； Denham
would probably have passed on with a salutation。 But
the shock of the interruption made him stand still； and
before he knew what he was doing； he had turned and
was walking with Rodney in obedience to Rodney’s invitation
to e to his rooms and have something to drink。
Denham had no wish to drink with Rodney； but he followed
him passively enough。 Rodney was gratified by this
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Virginia Woolf
obedience。 He felt inclined to be municative with
this silent man； who possessed so obviously all the good
masculine qualities in which Katharine now seemed lamentably
deficient。
“You do well； Denham；” he began impulsively； “to have
nothing to do with young women。 I offer you my experience—
if one trusts them one invariably has cause to
repent。 Not that I have any reason at this moment；” he
added hastily； “to plain of them。 It’s a subject that
crops up now and again for no particular reason。 Miss
Datchet； I dare say； is one of the exceptions。 Do you like
Miss Datchet？”
These remarks indicated clearly enough that Rodney’s
nerves were in a state of irritation； and Denham speedily
woke to the situation of the world as it had been one
hour ago。 He had last seen Rodney walking with Katharine。
He could not help regretting the eagerness with which
his mind returned to these interests； and fretted him with
the old trivial anxieties。 He sank in his own esteem。 Reason
bade him break from Rodney； who clearly tended to
bee confidential； before he had utterly lost touch
with the problems of high philosophy。 He looked along
the road； and marked a lamppost at a distance of some
hundred yards； and decided that he would part from
Rodney when they reached this point。
“Yes； I like Mary； I don’t see how one could help liking
her；” he remarked cautiously； with his eye on the lamppost。
“Ah； Denham； you’re so different from me。 You never
give yourself away。 I watched you this evening with
Katharine Hilbery。 My instinct is to trust the person I’m
talking to。 That’s why I’m always being taken in； I suppose。”
Denham seemed to be pondering this statement of
Rodney’s； but； as a matter of fact； he was hardly conscious
of Rodney and his revelations； and was only concerned
to make him mention Katharine again before they
reached the lamppost。
“Who’s taken you in now？” he asked。 “Katharine
Hilbery？”
Rodney stopped and once more began beating a kind of
rhythm； as if he were marking a phrase in a symphony；
57
Night and Day
upon the smooth stone balustrade of the Embankment。
“Katharine Hilbery；” he repeated； with a curious little
chuckle。 “No； Denham； I have no illusions about that
young woman。 I think I made that plain to her tonight。
But don’t run away with a false impression；” he continued
eagerly； turning and linking his arm through Denham’s；
as though to prevent him from escaping； and； thus pelled；
Denham passed the monitory lamppost； to which；
in passing； he breathed an excuse； for how could he break
away when Rodney’s arm was actually linked in his？ “You
must not think that I have any bitterness against her—
far from it。 It’s not altogether her fault； poor girl。 She
lives； you know； one of those odious； selfcentered lives—
at least； I think them odious for a woman—feeding her
wits upon everything； having control of everything； getting
far too much her own way at home—spoilt； in a
sense； feeling that every one is at her feet； and so not
realizing how she hurts—that is； how rudely she behaves
to people who haven’t all her advantages。 Still； to do her
justice； she’s no fool；” he added； as if to warn Denham
not to take any liberties。 “She has taste。 She has sense。
She can understand you when you talk to her。 But she’s a
woman； and there’s an end of it；” he added； with another
little chuckle； and dropped Denham’s arm。
“And did you tell her all this tonight？” Denham asked。
“Oh dear me； no。 I should never think of telling Katharine
the truth about herself。 That wouldn’t do at all。 One has
to be in an attitude of adoration in order to get on with
Katharine。
“Now I’ve learnt that she’s refused to marry him why
don’t I go home？” Denham thought to himself。 But he
went on walking beside Rodney； and for a time they did
not speak； though Rodney hummed snatches of a tune
out of an opera by Mozart。 A feeling of contempt and
liking bine very naturally in the mind of one to whom
another has just spoken unpremeditatedly； revealing rather
more of his private feelings than he intended to reveal。
Denham began to wonder what sort of person Rodney
was； and at the same time Rodney began to think about
Denham。
“You’re a slave like me； I suppose？” he asked。
“A solicitor； yes。”
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Virginia Woolf
“I sometimes wonder why we don’t chuck it。 Why don’t
you emigrate； Denham？ I should have thought that would
suit you。”
“I’ve a family。”
“I’m often on the point of going myself。 And then I
know I couldn’t live without this”—and he waved his
hand towards the City of London； which wore； at this
moment； the appearance of a town cut out of grayblue
cardboard； and pasted flat against the sky； which was of
a deeper blue。
“There are one or two peo