— But you will be ready to say, what was your hope in doing this? — What did you look forward to? — To any thing, every thing — to time, chance, circumstances, slow effects, sudden bursts, perserverance and weariness ... Every possibility of good was before me, and the first of blessings secured ... — from Emma, by Jane Austen (1775-1817)
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April 15, 2016

#Woolfalong, continued...



      'Mary Datchet,' said Mary. 'It's not such an imposing name as Katharine Hilbery, I'm afraid.'
      They both looked out of the window, first up at the hard silver moon, stationary among a hurry of little grey-blue clouds, and then down upon the roofs of London, with all their upright chimneys, and then below them at the empty moonlit pavement of the street, upon which the joint of each paving stone was clearly marked out. Mary then saw Katharine raise her eyes again to the moon, with a contemplative look in them, as though she were setting that moon against the moon of other nights, held in memory.  Some one in the room behind them made a joke about their pleasure in it, and they looked back into the room again.
      Ralph had been watching for this moment, and he instantly produced his sentence.
      'I wonder, Miss Hilbery, whether you remembered to get that picture glazed? His voice showed that the question was one that had been prepared.
      'Oh, you idiot!' Mary exclaimed, very nearly aloud, with a sense that Ralph had said something very stupid. So, after three lessons in Latin grammar, one might correct a fellow student, whose knowledge did not embrace the ablative of 'mensa.'
      'Picture -- what picture?' Katharine asked. 'Oh, at home,you mean -- that Sunday afternoon. Was it the day Mr. Fortescue came? Yes, I think I remembered it.'
      The three of them stood for a moment awkwardly silent, and then Mary left them in order to see that the great pitcher of coffee was properly handled, for beneath all her education she preserved the anxieties of one who owns china.
from Night and Day, by Virginia Woolf

Just stopping by to say hello. I'm still #woolf[ing]along, a little slowly but sincerely. :) In March and April, we're reading either of VW's first two novels, and this one, early on seems so different, so much more straightforward and conventional, than the (later} two that I've read before {this one and this}. But it has its own delights...I love, just adore, that last sentence.



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