love of facts。
They were； indeed； descending the shaft in a small cage；
and could hear the picks of the miners； something like
the gnawing of rats； in the earth beneath them； when
the door was burst open； without any knocking。
“Well； here you are！” Rodney exclaimed。 Both Katharine
and Henry turned round very quickly and rather guiltily。
Rodney was in evening dress。 It was clear that his temper
was ruffled。
“That’s where you’ve been all the time；” he repeated；
looking at Katharine。
“I’ve only been here about ten minutes；” she replied。
“My dear Katharine； you left the drawingroom over an
hour ago。”
She said nothing。
“Does it very much matter？” Henry asked。
Rodney found it hard to be unreasonable in the presence
of another man； and did not answer him。
“They don’t like it；” he said。 “It isn’t kind to old people
to leave them alone—although I’ve no doubt it’s much
more amusing to sit up here and talk to Henry。”
“We were discussing coalmines；” said Henry urbanely。
“Yes。 But we were talking about much more interesting
things before that；” said Katharine。
From the apparent determination to hurt him with which
she spoke； Henry thought that some sort of explosion on
Rodney’s part was about to take place。
“I can quite understand that；” said Rodney； with his
little chuckle； leaning over the back of his chair and tapping
the woodwork lightly with his fingers。 They were all
silent； and the silence was acutely unfortable to Henry；
at least。
“Was it very dull； William？” Katharine suddenly asked；
with a plete change of tone and a little gesture of
her hand。
“Of course it was dull；” William said sulkily。
“Well； you stay and talk to Henry； and I’ll go down；”
she replied。
She rose as she spoke； and as she turned to leave the
room； she laid her hand； with a curiously caressing gesture；
upon Rodney’s shoulder。 Instantly Rodney clasped
172
Virginia Woolf
her hand in his； with such an impulse of emotion that
Henry was annoyed； and rather ostentatiously opened a
book。
“I shall e down with you；” said William； as she drew
back her hand； and made as if to pass him。
“Oh no；” she said hastily。 “You stay here and talk to
Henry。”
“Yes； do；” said Henry； shutting up his book again。 His
invitation was polite； without being precisely cordial。
Rodney evidently hesitated as to the course he should
pursue； but seeing Katharine at the door； he exclaimed：
“No。 I want to e with you。”
She looked back； and said in a very manding tone；
and with an expression of authority upon her face：
“It’s useless for you to e。 I shall go to bed in ten
minutes。 Good night。”
She nodded to them both； but Henry could not help
noticing that her last nod was in his direction。 Rodney
sat down rather heavily。
His mortification was so obvious that Henry scarcely
liked to open the conversation with some remark of a
literary character。 On the other hand； unless he checked
him； Rodney might begin to talk about his feelings； and
irreticence is apt to be extremely painful； at any rate in
prospect。 He therefore adopted a middle course； that is
to say； he wrote a note upon the flyleaf of his book；
which ran； “The situation is being most unfortable。”
This he decorated with those flourishes and decorative
borders which grow of themselves upon these occasions；
and as he did so； he thought to himself that
whatever Katharine’s difficulties might be； they did not
justify her behavior。 She had spoken with a kind of brutality
which suggested that； whether it is natural or assumed；
women have a peculiar blindness to the feelings
of men。
The penciling of this note gave Rodney time to recover
himself。 Perhaps； for he was a very vain man； he was
more hurt that Henry had seen him rebuffed than by the
rebuff itself。 He was in love with Katharine； and vanity is
not decreased but increased by love； especially； one may
hazard； in the presence of one’s own sex。 But Rodney
enjoyed the courage which springs from that laughable
173
Night and Day
and lovable defect； and when he had mastered his first
impulse； in some way to make a fool of himself； he drew
inspiration from the perfect fit of his evening dress。 He
chose a cigarette； tapped it on the back of his hand；
displayed his exquisite pumps on the edge of the fender；
and summoned his selfrespect。
“You’ve several big estates round here； Otway；” he began。
“Any good hunting？ Let me see； what pack would it
be？ Who’s your great man？”
“Sir William Budge； the sugar king； has the biggest estate。
He bought out poor Stanham； who went bankrupt。”
“Which Stanham would that be？ Verney or Alfred？”
“Alfred… 。 I don’t hunt myself。 You’re a great huntsman；
aren’t you？ You have a great reputation as a horseman；
anyhow；” he added； desiring to help Rodney in his
effort to recover his placency。
“Oh； I love riding；” Rodney replied。 “Could I get a horse
down here？ Stupid of me！ I forgot to bring any clothes。 I can’t
imagine； though； who told you I was anything of a rider？”
To tell the truth； Henry labored under the same difficulty；
he did not wish to introduce Katharine’s name； and；
therefore； he replied vaguely that he had always heard
that Rodney was a great rider。 In truth； he had heard
very little about him； one way or another； accepting him
as a figure often to be found in the background at his
aunt’s house； and inevitably； though inexplicably； engaged
to his cousin。
“I don’t care much for shooting；” Rodney continued；
“but one has to do it； unless one wants to be altogether
out of things。 I dare say there’s some very pretty country
round here。 I stayed once at Bolham Hall。 Young
Cranthorpe was up with you； wasn’t he？ He married old
Lord Bolham’s daughter。 Very nice people—in their way。”
“I don’t mix in that society；” Henry remarked； rather
shortly。 But Rodney； now started on an agreeable current
of reflection； could not resist the temptation of pursuing
it a little further。 He appeared to himself as a man who
moved easily in very good society； and knew enough about
the true values of life to be himself above it。
“Oh； but you should；” he went on。 “It’s well worth staying
there； anyhow； once a year。 They make one very fortable；
and the women are ravishing。”
174
Virginia Woolf
“The women？” Henry thought to himself； with disgust。
“What could any woman see in you？” His tolerance was
rapidly being exhausted； but he could not help liking
Rodney nevertheless； and this appeared to him strange；
for he was fastidious； and such words in another mouth
would have condemned the speaker irreparably。 He began；
in short； to wonder what kind of creature this man
who was to marry his cousin might be。 Could any one；
except a rather singular character； afford to be so ridiculously
vain？
“I don’t think I should get on in that society；” he replied。
“I don’t think I should know what to say to Lady
Rose if I met her。”
“I don’t find any difficulty；” Rodney chuckled。 “You talk
to them about their children； if they have any； or their
acplishments—painting； gardening； poetry—they’re
so delightfully sympathetic。 Seriously； you know I think a
woman’s opinion of one’s poetry is always worth having。
Don’t ask them for their reasons。 Just ask them for their
feelings。 Katharine； for example—”
“Katharine；” said Henry； with an emphasis upon the
name； almost as if he resented Rodney’s use of it；
“Katharine is very unlike most women。”
“Quite；” Rodney agreed。 “She is—” He seemed about
to describe her； and he hesitated for a long time。 “She’s
looking very well；” he stated； or rather almost inquired；
in a different tone from that in which he had been speaking。
Henry bent his head。
“But； as a family； you’re given to moods； eh？”
“Not Katharine；” said Henry； with decision。
“Not Katharine；” Rodney repeated； as if he weighed the
meaning of the words。 “No； perhaps you’re right。 But her
engagement has changed her。 Naturally；” he added； “one
would expect that to be so。” He waited for Henry to confirm
this statement； but Henry remained silent。
“Katharine has had a difficult life； in some ways；” he
continued。 “I expect that marriage will be good for her。
She has great powers。”
“Great；” said Henry； with decision。
“Yes—but now what direction d’you think they take？”
Rodney had pletely dropped his pose as a man of
the world； and seemed to be asking Henry to help him in
175
Night and Day
a difficulty。
“I don’t know；” Henry hesitated cautiously。
“D’you think children—a household—that sort of
thing—d’you think that’ll satisfy her？ Mind； I’m out all
day。”
“She would certainly be very petent；” Henry stated。
“Oh； she’s wonderfully petent；” said Rodney。 “But—
I get absorbed in my poetry。 Well； Katharine hasn’t got
that。 She admires my poetry； you know； but that wouldn’t
be enough for