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with one’s own is apt to have a posing and even
ennobling influence； since plain speaking is possible and
subterfuges of no avail。 Rodney； too； was much in need
of a confidant； Katharine； despite her promises of help；
had failed him at the critical moment； she had gone off
with Denham； she was； perhaps； tormenting Denham as
she had tormented him。 How grave and stable he seemed；
speaking little； and walking firmly； pared with what
Rodney knew of his own torments and indecisions！ He
began to cast about for some way of telling the story of
his relations with Katharine and Cassandra that would
not lower him in Denham’s eyes。 It then occurred to him
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Night and Day
that； perhaps； Katharine herself had confided in Denham；
they had something in mon； it was likely that they
had discussed him that very afternoon。 The desire to discover
what they had said of him now came uppermost in
his mind。 He recalled Katharine’s laugh； he remembered
that she had gone； laughing； to walk with Denham。
“Did you stay long after we’d left？” he asked abruptly。
“No。 We went back to my house。”
This seemed to confirm Rodney’s belief that he had
been discussed。 He turned over the unpalatable idea for
a while； in silence。
“Women are inprehensible creatures； Denham！” he
then exclaimed。
“Um；” said Denham； who seemed to himself possessed
of plete understanding； not merely of women； but of
the entire universe。 He could read Rodney； too； like a
book。 He knew that he was unhappy； and he pitied him；
and wished to help him。
“You say something and they—fly into a passion。 Or
for no reason at all； they laugh。 I take it that no amount
of education will—” The remainder of the sentence was
lost in the high wind； against which they had to struggle；
but Denham understood that he referred to Katharine’s
laughter； and that the memory of it was still hurting him。
In parison with Rodney； Denham felt himself very
secure； he saw Rodney as one of the lost birds dashed
senseless against the glass； one of the flying bodies of
which the air was full。 But he and Katharine were alone
together； aloft； splendid； and luminous with a twofold
radiance。 He pitied the unstable creature beside him； he
felt a desire to protect him； exposed without the knowledge
which made his own way so direct。 They were united
as the adventurous are united； though one reaches the
goal and the other perishes by the way。
“You couldn’t laugh at some one you cared for。”
This sentence； apparently addressed to no other human
being； reached Denham’s ears。 The wind seemed to muffle
it and fly away with it directly。 Had Rodney spoken those
words？
“You love her。” Was that his own voice； which seemed
to sound in the air several yards in front of him？
“I’ve suffered tortures； Denham； tortures！”
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Virginia Woolf
“Yes； yes； I know that。”
“She’s laughed at me。”
“Never—to me。”
The wind blew a space between the words—blew them
so far away that they seemed unspoken。
“How I’ve loved her！”
This was certainly spoken by the man at Denham’s side。
The voice had all the marks of Rodney’s character； and
recalled； with； strange vividness； his personal appearance。
Denham could see him against the blank buildings
and towers of the horizon。 He saw him dignified； exalted；
and tragic； as he might have appeared thinking of
Katharine alone in his rooms at night。
“I am in love with Katharine myself。 That is why I am
here tonight。”
Ralph spoke distinctly and deliberately； as if Rodney’s
confession had made this statement necessary。
Rodney exclaimed something inarticulate。
“Ah； I’ve always known it；” he cried； “I’ve known it
from the first。 You’ll marry her！”
The cry had a note of despair in it。 Again the wind
intercepted their words。 They said no more。 At length
they drew up beneath a lamppost； simultaneously。
“My God； Denham； what fools we both are！” Rodney
exclaimed。 They looked at each other； queerly； in the light
of the lamp。 Fools！ They seemed to confess to each other
the extreme depths of their folly。 For the moment； under
the lamppost； they seemed to be aware of some mon
knowledge which did away with the possibility of
rivalry； and made them feel more sympathy for each other
than for any one else in the world。 Giving simultaneously
a little nod； as if in confirmation of this understanding；
they parted without speaking again。
347
Night and Day
CHAPTER XXIX
Between twelve and one that Sunday night Katharine lay
in bed； not asleep； but in that twilight region where a
detached and humorous view of our own lot is possible；
or if we must be serious； our seriousness is tempered by
the swift one of slumber and oblivion。 She saw the
forms of Ralph； William； Cassandra； and herself； as if they
were all equally unsubstantial； and； in putting off reality；
had gained a kind of dignity which rested upon each
impartially。 Thus rid of any unfortable warmth of partisanship
or load of obligation； she was dropping off to
sleep when a light tap sounded upon her door。 A moment
later Cassandra stood beside her； holding a candle and
speaking in the low tones proper to the time of night。
“Are you awake； Katharine？”
“Yes； I’m awake。 What is it？”
She roused herself； sat up； and asked what in Heaven’s
name Cassandra was doing？
“I couldn’t sleep； and I thought I’d e and speak to
you—only for a moment； though。 I’m going home to
morrow。”
“Home？ Why； what has happened？”
“Something happened today which makes it impossible
for me to stay here。”
Cassandra spoke formally； almost solemnly； the announcement
was clearly prepared and marked a crisis of
the utmost gravity。 She continued what seemed to be
part of a set speech。
“I have decided to tell you the whole truth； Katharine。
William allowed himself to behave in a way which made
me extremely unfortable today。”
Katharine seemed to waken pletely； and at once to
be in control of herself。
“At the Zoo？”