CHAPTER IV

lledaRomanheadboundwithlaurel,cutuponacircleofsemi-transparentreddishstone.Ithaddignityandcharacter.ByprofessionaclerkinaGovernmentoffice,hewasoneofthosemartyredspiritstowhomliteratureisatonceasourceofdivinejoyandofalmostintolerableirritation.Notcontenttorestintheirloveofit,theymustattempttopractiseitthemselves,andtheyaregenerallyendowedwithverylittlefacilityincomposition.Theycondemnwhatevertheyproduce.Moreover,theviolenceoftheirfeelingsissuchthattheyseldommeetwithadequatesympathy,andbeingrenderedverysensitivebytheircultivatedperceptions,sufferconstantslightsbothtotheirownpersonsandtothethingtheyworship.ButRodneycouldneverresistmakingtrialofthesympathiesofanyonewhoseemedfavorablydisposed,andDenham’spraisehadstimulatedhisverysusceptiblevanity. “YourememberthepassagejustbeforethedeathoftheDuchess?”hecontinued,edgingstillclosertoDenham,andadjustinghiselbowandkneeinanincrediblyangularcombination.Here,Katharine,whohadbeencutoffbythesemaneuversfromallcommunicationwiththeouterworld,rose,andseatedherselfuponthewindow-sill,whereshewasjoinedbyMaryDatchet.Thetwoyoungwomencouldthussurveythewholeparty.Denhamlookedafterthem,andmadeasifheweretearinghandfulsofgrassupbytherootsfromthecarpet.Butasitfellinaccuratelywithhisconceptionoflifethatallone’sdesireswereboundtobefrustrated,heconcentratedhisminduponliterature,anddetermined,philosophically,togetwhathecouldoutofthat. Katharinewaspleasantlyexcited.Avarietyofcourseswasopentoher.Sheknewseveralpeopleslightly,andatanymomentoneofthemmightrisefromthefloorandcomeandspeaktoherontheotherhand,shemightselectsomebodyforherself,orshemightstrikeintoRodney’sdiscourse,towhichshewasintermittentlyattentive.ShewasconsciousofMary’sbodybesideher,but,atthesametime,theconsciousnessofbeingbothofthemwomenmadeitunnecessarytospeaktoher.ButMary,feeling,asshehadsaid,thatKatharinewasa“personality,”wishedsomuchtospeaktoherthatinafewmomentsshedid. “They’reexactlylikeaflockofsheep,aren’tthey?”shesaid,referringtothenoisethatrosefromthescatteredbodiesbeneathher. Katharineturnedandsmiled. “Iwonderwhatthey’remakingsuchanoiseabout?”shesaid. “TheElizabethans,Isuppose.” “No,Idon’tthinkit’sgotanythingtodowiththeElizabethans.There!Didn’tyouhearthemsay,‘InsuranceBill’?” “Iwonderwhymenalwaystalkaboutpolitics?”Maryspeculated.“Isuppose,ifwehadvotes,weshould,too.” “Idaresayweshould.Andyouspendyourlifeingettingusvotes,don’tyou?” “Ido,”saidMary,stoutly.“FromtentosixeverydayI’matit.” KatharinelookedatRalphDenham,whowasnowpoundinghiswaythroughthemetaphysicsofmetaphorwithRodney,andwasremindedofhistalkthatSundayafternoon.SheconnectedhimvaguelywithMary. “Isupposeyou’reoneofthepeoplewhothinkweshouldallhaveprofessions,”shesaid,ratherdistantly,asiffeelingherwayamongthephantomsofanunknownworld. “Ohdearno,”saidMaryatonce. “Well,IthinkIdo,”Katharinecontinued,withhalfasigh.“Youwillalwaysbeabletosaythatyou’vedonesomething,whereas,inacrowdlikethis,Ifeelrathermelancholy.” “Inacrowd?Whyinacrowd?”Maryasked,deepeningthetwolinesbetweenhereyes,andhoistingherselfnearertoKatharineuponthewindow-sill. “Don’tyouseehowmanydifferentthingsthesepeoplecareabout?AndIwanttobeatthemdown—Ionlymean,”shecorrectedherself,“thatIwanttoassertmyself,andit’sdifficult,ifonehasn’taprofession.” Marysmiled,thinkingthattobeatpeopledownwasaprocessthatshouldpresentnodifficultytoMissKatharineHilbery.Theykneweachothersoslightlythatthebeginningofintimacy,whichKatharineseemedtoinitiatebytalkingaboutherself,hadsomethingsolemninit,andtheyweresilent,asiftodecidewhethertoproceedornot.Theytestedtheground. “Ah,butIwanttotrampleupontheirprostratebodies!”Katharineannounced,amomentlater,withalaugh,asifatthetrainofthoughtwhichhadledhertothisconclusion. “Onedoesn’tnecessarilytrampleuponpeople’sbodiesbecauseonerunsanoffice,”Maryremarked. “No.Perhapsnot,”Katharinereplied.Theconversationlapsed,andMarysawKatharinelookingoutintotheroomrathermoodilywithclosedlips,thedesiretotalkaboutherselfortoinitiateafriendshiphaving,apparently,lefther.Marywasstruckbyhercapacityforbeingthuseasilysilent,andoccupiedwithherownthoughts.Itwasahabitthatspokeoflonelinessandamindthinkingforitself.WhenKatharineremainedsilentMarywasslightlyembarrassed. “Yes,they’reverylikesheep,”sherepeated,foolishly. “Andyettheyareveryclever—atleast,”Katharineadded,“IsupposetheyhaveallreadWebster.” “Surelyyoudon’tthinkthataproofofcleverness?I’vereadWebster,I’vereadBenJonson,butIdon’tthinkmyselfclever—notexactly,atleast.” “Ithinkyoumustbeveryclever,”Katharineobserved. “Why?BecauseIrunanoffice?” “Iwasn’tthinkingofthat.Iwasthinkinghowyoulivealoneinthisroom,andhaveparties.” Maryreflectedforasecond. “Itmeans,chiefly,apowerofbeingdisagreeabletoone’sownfamily,Ithink.Ihavethat,perhaps.Ididn’twanttoliveathome,andItoldmyfather.Hedidn’tlikeit....ButthenIhaveasister,andyouhaven’t,haveyou?” “No,Ihaven’tanysisters.” “Youarewritingalifeofyourgrandfather?”Marypursued. Katharineseemedinstantlytobeconfrontedbysomefamiliarthoughtfromwhichshewishedtoescape.Shereplied,“Yes,Iamhelpingmymother,”insuchawaythatMaryfeltherselfbaffled,andputbackagainintothepositioninwhichshehadbeenatthebeginningoftheirtalk.ItseemedtoherthatKatharinepossessedacurious