[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第87章

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discussion。　Her　questions　frequently　began；　“Am　I　
to　understand—”　and　his　replies　invariably　represented　
the　views　of　some　one　called　“we。”　

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Night　and　Day　

By　this　time　Mary　was　almost　persuaded　that　she；　too；　
was　included　in　the　“we；”　and　agreed　with　Mr。　Bast　in　
believing　that　“our”　views；　“our”　society；　“our”　policy；　
stood　for　something　quite　definitely　segregated　from　the　
main　body　of　society　in　a　circle　of　superior　illumination。　

The　appearance　of　Katharine　in　this　atmosphere　was　
extremely　incongruous；　and　had　the　effect　of　making　Mary　
remember　all　sorts　of　things　that　she　had　been　glad　to　
forget。　

“You’ve　been　dining　out？”　she　asked　again；　looking；　
with　a　little　smile；　at　the　blue　silk　and　the　pearlsewn　
shoes。　

“No；　at　home。　Are　you　starting　something　new？”　
Katharine　hazarded；　rather　hesitatingly；　looking　at　the　
papers。　

“We　are；”　Mr。　Bast　replied。　He　said　no　more。　

“I’m　thinking　of　leaving　our　friends　in　Russell　Square；”　
Mary　explained。　

“I　see。　And　then　you　will　do　something　else。”　

“Well；　I’m　afraid　I　like　working；”　said　Mary。　

“Afraid；”　said　Mr。　Bast；　conveying　the　impression　

that；　in　his　opinion；　no　sensible　person　could　be　afraid　
of　liking　to　work。　

“Yes；”　said　Katharine；　as　if　he　had　stated　this　opinion　
aloud。　“I　should　like　to　start　something—something　off　
one’s　own　bat—that’s　what　I　should　like。”　

“Yes；　that’s　the　fun；”　said　Mr。　Bast；　looking　at　her　
for　the　first　time　rather　keenly；　and　refilling　his　pipe。　

“But　you　can’t　limit　work—that’s　what　I　mean；”　said　
Mary。　“I　mean　there　are　other　sorts　of　work。　No　one　works　
harder　than　a　woman　with　little　children。”　

“Quite　so；”　said　Mr。　Bast。　“It’s　precisely　the　women　
with　babies　we　want　to　get　hold　of。”　He　glanced　at　his　
document；　rolled　it　into　a　cylinder　between　his　fingers；　
and　gazed　into　the　fire。　Katharine　felt　that　in　this　pany　
anything　that　one　said　would　be　judged　upon　its　
merits；　one　had　only　to　say　what　one　thought；　rather　
barely　and　tersely；　with　a　curious　assumption　that　the　
number　of　things　that　could　properly　be　thought　about　
was　strictly　limited。　And　Mr。　Bast　was　only　stiff　upon　
the　surface；　there　was　an　intelligence　in　his　face　which　
attracted　her　intelligence。　

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“When　will　the　public　know？”　she　asked。　

“What　d’you　mean—about　us？”　Mr。　Bast　asked；　with　
a　little　smile。　

“That　depends　upon　many　things；”　said　Mary。　The　conspirators　
looked　pleased；　as　if　Katharine’s　question；　with　
the　belief　in　their　existence　which　it　implied；　had　a　warming　
effect　upon　them。　

“In　starting　a　society　such　as　we　wish　to　start　（we　can’t　
say　any　more　at　present）；”　Mr。　Bast　began；　with　a　
little　jerk　of　his　head；　“there　are　two　things　to　remember—
the　Press　and　the　public。　Other　societies；　which　shall　
be　nameless；　have　gone　under　because　they’ve　appealed　
only　to　cranks。　If　you　don’t　want　a　mutual　admiration　
society；　which　dies　as　soon　as　you’ve　all　discovered　each　
other’s　faults；　you　must　nobble　the　Press。　You　must　appeal　
to　the　public。”　

“That’s　the　difficulty；”　said　Mary　thoughtfully。　

“That’s　where　she　es　in；”　said　Mr。　Bast；　jerking　
his　head　in　Mary’s　direction。　“She’s　the　only　one　of　us　
who’s　a　capitalist。　She　can　make　a　wholetime　job　of　it。　I’m　
tied　to　an　office；　I　can　only　give　my　spare　time。　Are　you；　

by　any　chance；　on　the　lookout　for　a　job？”　he　asked　

Katharine；　with　a　queer　mixture　of　distrust　and　deference。　

“Marriage　is　her　job　at　present；”　Mary　replied　for　her。　

“Oh；　I　see；”　said　Mr。　Bast。　He　made　allowances　for　
that；　he　and　his　friends　had　faced　the　question　of　sex；　
along　with　all　others；　and　assigned　it　an　honorable　place　
in　their　scheme　of　life。　Katharine　felt　this　beneath　the　
roughness　of　his　manner；　and　a　world　entrusted　to　the　
guardianship　of　Mary　Datchet　and　Mr。　Bast　seemed　to　
her　a　good　world；　although　not　a　romantic　or　beautiful　
place　or；　to　put　it　figuratively；　a　place　where　any　line　of　
blue　mist　softly　linked　tree　to　tree　upon　the　horizon。　For　
a　moment　she　thought　she　saw　in　his　face；　bent　now　over　
the　fire；　the　features　of　that　original　man　whom　we　still　
recall　every　now　and　then；　although　we　know　only　the　
clerk；　barrister；　Governmental　official；　or　workingman　
variety　of　him。　Not　that　Mr。　Bast；　giving　his　days　to　
merce　and　his　spare　time　to　social　reform；　would　long　
carry　about　him　any　trace　of　his　possibilities　of　pleteness；　
but；　for　the　moment；　in　his　youth　and　ardor；　
still　speculative；　still　uncramped；　one　might　imagine　him　

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Night　and　Day　

the　citizen　of　a　nobler　state　than　ours。　Katharine　turned　
over　her　small　stock　of　information；　and　wondered　what　
their　society　might　be　going　to　attempt。　Then　she　remembered　
that　she　was　hindering　their　business；　and　rose；　
still　thinking　of　this　society；　and　thus　thinking；　she　said　
to　Mr。　Bast：　

“Well；　you’ll　ask　me　to　join　when　the　time　es；　I　
hope。”　

He　nodded；　and　took　his　pipe　from　his　mouth；　but；　
being　unable　to　think　of　anything　to　say；　he　put　it　back　
again；　although　he　would　have　been　glad　if　she　had　
stayed。　

Against　her　wish；　Mary　insisted　upon　taking　her　downstairs；　
and　then；　as　there　was　no　cab　to　be　seen；　they　
stood　in　the　street　together；　looking　about　them。　

“Go　back；”　Katharine　urged　her；　thinking　of　Mr。　Bast　
with　his　papers　in　his　hand。　

“You　can’t　wander　about　the　streets　alone　in　those　
clothes；”　said　Mary；　but　the　desire　to　find　a　cab　was　not　
her　true　reason　for　standing　beside　Katharine　for　a　minute　
or　two。　Unfortunately　for　her　posure；　Mr。　Bast　and　

his　papers　seemed　to　her　an　incidental　diversion　of　life’s　
serious　purpose　pared　with　some　tremendous　fact　
which　manifested　itself　as　she　stood　alone　with　Katharine。　
It　may　have　been　their　mon　womanhood。　

“Have　you　seen　Ralph？”　she　asked　suddenly；　without　
preface。　

“Yes；”　said　Katharine　directly；　but　she　did　not　remember　
when　or　where　she　had　seen　him。　It　took　her　a　moment　
or　two　to　remember　why　Mary　should　ask　her　if　she　
had　seen　Ralph。　

“I　believe　I’m　jealous；”　said　Mary。　

“Nonsense；　Mary；”　said　Katharine；　rather　distractedly；　
taking　her　arm　and　beginning　to　walk　up　the　street　in　the　
direction　of　the　main　road。　“Let　me　see；　we　went　to　Kew；　
and　we　agreed　to　be　friends。　Yes；　that’s　what　happened。”　
Mary　was　silent；　in　the　hope　that　Katharine　would　tell　
her　more。　But　Katharine　said　nothing。　

“It’s　not　a　question　of　friendship；”　Mary　exclaimed；　her　
anger　rising；　to　her　own　surprise。　“You　know　it’s　not。　How　
can　it　be？　I’ve　no　right　to　interfere—”　She　stopped。　“Only　
I’d　rather　Ralph　wasn’t　hurt；”　she　concluded。　

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“I　think　he　seems　able　to　take　care　of　himself；”　Katharine　
observed。　Without　either　of　them　wishing　it；　a　feeling　of　
hostility　had　risen　between　them。　

“Do　you　really　think　it’s　worth　it？”　said　Mary；　after　a　
pause。　

“How　can　one　tell？”　Katharine　asked。　

“Have　you　ever　cared　for　any　one？”　Mary　demanded　
rashly　and　foolishly。　

“I　can’t　wander　about　London　discussing　my　feelings—　
Here’s　a　cab—no；　there’s　some　one　in　it。”　

“We　don’t　want　to　quarrel；”　said　Mary。　

“Ought　I　to　have　told　him　that　I　wouldn’t　be　his　friend？”　
Katharine　asked。　“Shall　I　tell　him　that？　If　so；　what　reason　
shall　I　give　him？”　

“Of　course　you　can’t　tell　him　that；”　said　Mary；　controlling　
herself。　

“I　believe　I　shall；　though；”　said　Katharine　suddenly。　

“I　lost　my　temper；　Katharine；　I　shouldn’t　have　said　what　
I　did。”　

“The　whole　thing’s　foolish；”　said　Katharine；　peremptorily。　
“That’s　what　I　say。　It’s　not　worth　it。”　She　spoke　with　

unnecessary　vehemence；　but　it　was　not　directed　against　
Mary　Datchet。　Their　animosity　had　pletely　disappeared；　
and　upon　both　of　them　a　cloud　of　difficulty　and　darkness　
rested；　obscuring　the　future；　in　which　they　had　both　to　
find　a　way。　

“No；　no；　it’s　not　worth　it；”　Katharine　repeated。　“Suppose；　
as　you　say；　it’s　out　of　the　question—this　friendship；　
he　falls　in　lov