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the old lady； the woman with the perambulator； the bailiff
and the dissenting minister； his eyes filled involun
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Night and Day
tarily with tears。 He would have liked to lay his head on
her shoulder and sob； while she parted his hair with her
fingers and soothed him and said：
“There； there。 Don’t cry！ Tell me why you’re crying—”；
and they would clasp each other tight； and her arms would
hold him like his mother’s。 He felt that he was very lonely；
and that he was afraid of the other people in the room。
“How damnable this all is！” he exclaimed abruptly。
“What are you talking about？” she replied； rather
vaguely； still looking out of the window。
He resented this divided attention more than； perhaps；
he knew； and he thought how Mary would soon be on her
way to America。
“Mary；” he said； “I want to talk to you。 Haven’t we
nearly done？ Why don’t they take away these plates？”
Mary felt his agitation without looking at him； she felt
convinced that she knew what it was that he wished to
say to her。
“They’ll e all in good time；” she said； and felt it
necessary to display her extreme calmness by lifting a
saltcellar and sweeping up a little heap of breadcrumbs。
“I want to apologize；” Ralph continued； not quite knowing
what he was about to say； but feeling some curious
instinct which urged him to mit himself irrevocably；
and to prevent the moment of intimacy from passing。
“I think I’ve treated you very badly。 That is； I’ve told you
lies。 Did you guess that I was lying to you？ Once in Lincoln’s
Inn Fields and again today on our walk。 I am a liar； Mary。
Did you know that？ Do you think you do know me？”
“I think I do；” she said。
At this point the waiter changed their plates。
“It’s true I don’t want you to go to America；” he said；
looking fixedly at the tablecloth。 “In fact； my feelings
towards you seem to be utterly and damnably bad；” he
said energetically； although forced to keep his voice low。
“If I weren’t a selfish beast I should tell you to have
nothing more to do with me。 And yet； Mary； in spite of
the fact that I believe what I’m saying； I also believe
that it’s good we should know each other—the world
being what it is； you see—” and by a nod of his head he
indicated the other occupants of the room； “for； of course；
in an ideal state of things； in a decent munity even；
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Virginia Woolf
there’s no doubt you shouldn’t have anything to do with
me—seriously； that is。”
“You forget that I’m not an ideal character； either；”
said Mary； in the same low and very earnest tones； which；
in spite of being almost inaudible； surrounded their table
with an atmosphere of concentration which was quite
perceptible to the other diners； who glanced at them now
and then with a queer mixture of kindness； amusement；
and curiosity。
“I’m much more selfish than I let on； and I’m worldly a
little—more than you think； anyhow。 I like bossing
things—perhaps that’s my greatest fault。 I’ve none of
your passion for—” here she hesitated； and glanced at
him； as if to ascertain what his passion was for—”for the
truth；” she added； as if she had found what she sought
indisputably。
“I’ve told you I’m a liar；” Ralph repeated obstinately。
“Oh； in little things； I dare say；” she said impatiently。
“But not in real ones； and that’s what matters。 I dare say
I’m more truthful than you are in small ways。 But I could
never care”—she was surprised to find herself speaking
the word； and had to force herself to speak it out—”for
any one who was a liar in that way。 I love the truth a
certain amount—a considerable amount—but not in the
way you love it。” Her voice sank； became inaudible； and
wavered as if she could scarcely keep herself from tears。
“Good heavens！” Ralph exclaimed to himself。 “She loves
me！ Why did I never see it before？ She’s going to cry； no；
but she can’t speak。”
The certainty overwhelmed him so that he scarcely knew
what he was doing； the blood rushed to his cheeks； and
although he had quite made up his mind to ask her to
marry him； the certainty that she loved him seemed to
change the situation so pletely that he could not do
it。 He did not dare to look at her。 If she cried； he did not
know what he should do。 It seemed to him that something
of a terrible and devastating nature had happened。
The waiter changed their plates once more。
In his agitation Ralph rose； turned his back upon Mary；
and looked out of the window。 The people in the street
seemed to him only a dissolving and bining pattern
of black particles； which； for the moment； represented
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Night and Day
very well the involuntary procession of feelings and
thoughts which formed and dissolved in rapid succession
in his own mind。 At one moment he exulted in the thought
that Mary loved him； at the next； it seemed that he was
without feeling for her； her love was repulsive to him。
Now he felt urged to marry her at once； now to disappear
and never see her again。 In order to control this disorderly
race of thought he forced himself to read the name
on the chemist’s shop directly opposite him； then to examine
the objects in the shop windows； and then to focus
his eyes exactly upon a little group of women looking
in at the great windows of a large draper’s shop。 This
discipline having given him at least a superficial control
of himself； he was about to turn and ask the waiter to
bring the bill； when his eye was caught by a tall figure
walking quickly along the opposite pavement—a tall figure；
upright； dark； and manding； much detached from
her surroundings。 She held her gloves in her left hand；
and the left hand was bare。 All this Ralph noticed and
enumerated and recognized before he put a name to the
whole—Katharine Hilbery。 She seemed to be looking for
somebody。 Her eyes； in fact； scanned both sides of the
street； and for one second were raised directly to the
bow window in which Ralph stood； but she looked away
again instantly