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of mankind。 She had been too lately and too roughly mastered
by facts to take an easy pleasure in the relief of
renunciation； such satisfaction as she felt came only from
the discovery that； having renounced everything that made
life happy； easy； splendid； individual； there remained a hard
reality； unimpaired by one’s personal adventures； remote
as the stars； unquenchable as they are。
While Mary Datchet was undergoing this curious transformation
from the particular to the universal； Mrs。 Seal
remembered her duties with regard to the kettle and the
gasfire。 She was a little surprised to find that Mary had
drawn her chair to the window； and； having lit the gas； she
raised herself from a stooping posture and looked at her。
The most obvious reason for such an attitude in a secretary
was some kind of indisposition。 But Mary； rousing
herself with an effort； denied that she was indisposed。
“I’m frightfully lazy this afternoon；” she added； with a
glance at her table。 “You must really get another secre
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Night and Day
tary； Sally。”
The words were meant to be taken lightly； but something
in the tone of them roused a jealous fear which
was always dormant in Mrs。 Seal’s breast。 She was terribly
afraid that one of these days Mary； the young woman
who typified so many rather sentimental and enthusiastic
ideas； who had some sort of visionary existence in
white with a sheaf of lilies in her hand； would announce；
in a jaunty way； that she was about to be married。
“You don’t mean that you’re going to leave us？” she
said。
“I’ve not made up my mind about anything；” said Mary—
a remark which could be taken as a generalization。
Mrs。 Seal got the teacups out of the cupboard and set
them on the table。
“You’re not going to be married； are you？” she asked；
pronouncing the words with nervous speed。
“Why are you asking such absurd questions this afternoon；
Sally？” Mary asked； not very steadily。 “Must we all
get married？”
Mrs。 Seal emitted a most peculiar chuckle。 She seemed
for one moment to acknowledge the terrible side of life
which is concerned with the emotions； the private lives；
of the sexes； and then to sheer off from it with all possible
speed into the shades of her own shivering virginity。
She was made so unfortable by the turn the conversation
had taken； that she plunged her head into the
cupboard； and endeavored to abstract some very obscure
piece of china。
“We have our work；” she said； withdrawing her head；
displaying cheeks more than usually crimson； and placing
a jampot emphatically upon the table。 But； for the
moment； she was unable to launch herself upon one of
those enthusiastic； but inconsequent； tirades upon liberty；
democracy； the rights of the people； and the iniquities
of the Government； in which she delighted。 Some
memory from her own past or from the past of her sex
rose to her mind and kept her abashed。 She glanced furtively
at Mary； who still sat by the window with her arm
upon the sill。 She noticed how young she was and full of
the promise of womanhood。 The sight made her so uneasy
that she fidgeted the cups upon their saucers。
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Virginia Woolf
“Yes—enough work to last a lifetime；” said Mary； as if
concluding some passage of thought。
Mrs。 Seal brightened at once。 She lamented her lack of
scientific training； and her deficiency in the processes of
logic； but she set her mind to work at once to make the
prospects of the cause appear as alluring and important
as she could。 She delivered herself of an harangue in
which she asked a great many rhetorical questions and
answered them with a little bang of one fist upon another。
“To last a lifetime？ My dear child； it will last all our
lifetimes。 As one falls another steps into the breach。 My
father； in his generation； a pioneer—I； ing after him；
do my little best。 What； alas！ can one do more？ And now
it’s you young women—we look to you—the future looks
to you。 Ah； my dear； if I’d a thousand lives； I’d give them
all to our cause。 The cause of women； d’you say？ I say the
cause of humanity。 And there are some”—she glanced
fiercely at the window—”who don’t see it！ There are some
who are satisfied to go on； year after year； refusing to
admit the truth。 And we who have the vision—the kettle
boiling over？ No； no； let me see to it—we who know the
truth；” she continued； gesticulating with the kettle and
the teapot。 Owing to these encumbrances； perhaps； she
lost the thread of her discourse； and concluded； rather
wistfully； “It’s all so simple。” She referred to a matter
that was a perpetual source of bewilderment to her—the
extraordinary incapacity of the human race； in a world
where the good is so unmistakably divided from the bad；
of distinguishing one from the other； and embodying what
ought to be done in a few large； simple Acts of Parliament；
which would； in a very short time； pletely
change the lot of humanity。
“One would have thought；” she said； “that men of University
training； like Mr。 Asquith—one would have thought that
an appeal to reason would not be unheard by them。 But
reason；” she reflected； “what is reason without Reality？”
Doing homage to the phrase； she repeated it once more；
and caught the ear of Mr。 Clacton； as he issued from his
room； and he repeated it a third time； giving it； as he
was in the habit of doing with Mrs。 Seal’s phrases； a dryly
humorous intonation。 He was well pleased with the world；
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Night and Day
however； and he remarked； in a flattering manner； that
he would like to see that phrase in large letters at the
head of a leaflet。
“But； Mrs。 Seal； we have to aim at a judicious bination
of the two；” he added in his magisterial way to check
the unbalanced enthusiasm of the women。 “Reality has to
be voiced by reason before it can make itself felt。 The
weak point of all these movements； Miss Datchet；” he continued；
taking his place at the table and turning to Mary
as usual when about to deliver his more profo