Chapter XIII

by Virginia Woolf

　　The lunch hour in the office was only partly spent by Denham in theconsumption of food. Whether fine or wet, he passed most of it pacingthe gravel paths in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The children got to know hisfigure, and the sparrows expected their daily scattering of bread-crumbs. No doubt, since he often gave a copper and almost always ahandful of bread, he was not as blind to his surroundings as hethought himself.He thought that these winter days were spent in long hours beforewhite papers radiant in electric light; and in short passages throughfog-dimmed streets. When he came back to his work after lunch hecarried in his head a picture of the Strand, scattered with omnibuses,and of the purple shapes of leaves pressed flat upon the gravel, as ifhis eyes had always been bent upon the ground. His brain workedincessantly, but his thought was attended with so little joy that hedid not willingly recall it; but drove ahead, now in this direction,now in that; and came home laden with dark books borrowed from alibrary.Mary Datchet, coming from the Strand at lunch-time, saw him one daytaking his turn, closely buttoned in an overcoat, and so lost inthought that he might have been sitting in his own room.She was overcome by something very like awe by the sight of him; thenshe felt much inclined to laugh, although her pulse beat faster. Shepassed him, and he never saw her. She came back and touched him on theshoulder."Gracious, Mary!" he exclaimed. "How you startled me!""Yes. You looked as if you were walking in your sleep," she said. "Areyou arranging some terrible love affair? Have you got to reconcile adesperate couple?""I wasn't thinking about my work," Ralph replied, rather hastily."And, besides, that sort of thing's not in my line," he added, rathergrimly.The morning was fine, and they had still some minutes of leisure tospend. They had not met for two or three weeks, and Mary had much tosay to Ralph; but she was not certain how far he wished for hercompany. However, after a turn or two, in which a few facts werecommunicated, he suggested sitting down, and she took the seat besidehim. The sparrows came fluttering about them, and Ralph produced fromhis pocket the half of a roll saved from his luncheon. He threw a fewcrumbs among them."I've never seen sparrows so tame," Mary observed, by way of sayingsomething."No," said Ralph. "The sparrows in Hyde Park aren't as tame as this.If we keep perfectly still, I'll get one to settle on my arm."Mary felt that she could have forgone this display of animal goodtemper, but seeing that Ralph, for some curious reason, took a pridein the sparrows, she bet him sixpence that he would not succeed."Done!" he said; and his eye, which had been gloomy, showed a spark oflight. His conversation was now addressed entirely to a bald cock-sparrow, who seemed bolder than the rest; and Mary took theopportunity of looking at him. She was not satisfied; his face wasworn, and his expression stern. A child came bowling its hoop throughthe concourse of birds, and Ralph threw his last crumbs of bread intothe bushes with a snort of impatience."That's what always happens--just as I've almost got him," he said."Here's your sixpence, Mary. But you've only got it thanks to thatbrute of a boy. They oughtn't to be allowed to bowl hoops here--""Oughtn't to be allowed to bowl hoops! My dear Ralph, what nonsense!""You always say that," he complained; "and it isn't nonsense. What'sthe point of having a garden if one can't watch birds in it? Thestreet does all right for hoops. And if children can't be trusted inthe streets, their mothers should keep them at home."Mary made no answer to this remark, but frowned.She leant back on the seat and looked about her at the great housesbreaking the soft gray-blue sky with their chimneys."Ah, well," she said, "London's a fine place to live in. I believe Icould sit and watch people all day long. I like my fellow-creatures. . . ."Ralph sighed impatiently."Yes, I think so, when you come to know them," she added, as if hisdisagreement had been spoken."That's just when I don't like them," he replied. "Still, I don't seewhy you shouldn't cherish that illusion, if it pleases you." He spokewithout much vehemence of agreement or disagreement. He seemedchilled."Wake up, Ralph! You're half asleep!" Mary cried, turning and pinchinghis sleeve. "What have you been doing with yourself? Moping? Working?Despising the world, as usual?"As he merely shook his head, and filled his pipe, she went on:"It's a bit of a pose, isn't it?""Not more than most things," he said."Well," Mary remarked, "I've a great deal to say to you, but I must goon--we have a committee." She rose, but hesitated, looking down uponhim rather gravely. "You don't look happy, Ralph," she said. "Is itanything, or is it nothing?"He did not immediately answer her, but rose, too, and walked with hertowards the gate. As usual, he did not speak to her withoutconsidering whether what he was about to say was the sort of thingthat he could say to her."I've been bothered," he said at length. "Partly by work, and partlyby family troubles. Charles has been behaving like a fool. He wants togo out to Canada as a farmer--""Well, there's something to be said for that," said Mary; and theypassed the gate, and walked slowly round the Fields again, discussingdifficulties which, as a matter of fact, were more or less chronic inthe Denham family, and only now brought forward to appease Mary'ssympathy, which, however, soothed Ralph more than he was aware of. Shemade him at least dwell upon problems which were real in the sensethat they were capable of solution; and the true cause of hismelancholy, which was not susceptible to such treatment, sank rathermore deeply into the shades of his mind.Mary was attentive; she was helpful. Ralph could not help feelinggrateful to her, the more so, perhaps, because he had not told her thetruth about his state; and when they reached the gate again he wishedto make some affectionate objection to her leaving him. But hisaffection took the rather uncouth form of expostulating with her abouther work."What d'you want to sit on a committee for?" he asked. "It's waste ofyour time, Mary.""I agree with you that a country walk would benefit the world more,"she said. "Look here," she added suddenly, "why don't you come to usat Christmas? It's almost the best time of year.""Come to you at Disham?" Ralph repeated."Yes. We won't interfere with you. But you can tell me later," shesaid, rather hastily, and then started off in the direction of RussellSquare. She had invited him on the impulse of the moment, as a visionof the country came before her; and now she was annoyed with herselffor having done so, and then she was annoyed at being annoyed."If I can't face a walk in a field alone with Ralph," she reasoned,"I'd better buy a cat and live in a lodging at Ealing, like Sally Seal--and he won't come. Or did he mean that he would come?"She shook her head. She really did not know what he had meant. Shenever felt quite certain; but now she was more than usually baffled.Was he concealing something from her? His manner had been odd; hisdeep absorption had impressed her; there was something in him that shehad not fathomed, and the mystery of his nature laid more of a spellupon her than she liked. Moreover, she could not prevent herself fromdoing now what she had often blamed others of her sex for doing--fromendowing her friend with a kind of heavenly fire, and passing her lifebefore it for his sanction.Under this process, the committee rather dwindled in importance; theSuffrage shrank; she vowed she would work harder at the Italianlanguage; she thought she would take up the study of birds. But thisprogram for a perfect life threatened to become so absurd that shevery soon caught herself out in the evil habit, and was rehearsing herspeech to the committee by the time the chestnut-colored bricks ofRussell Square came in sight. Indeed, she never noticed them. She ranupstairs as usual, and was completely awakened to reality by the sightof Mrs. Seal, on the landing outside the office, inducing a very largedog to drink water out of a tumbler."Miss Markham has already arrived," Mrs. Seal remarked, with duesolemnity, "and this is her dog.""A very fine dog, too," said Mary, patting him on the head."Yes. A magnificent fellow, Mrs. Seal agreed. "A kind of St. Bernard,she tells me--so like Kit to have a St. Bernard. And you guard yourmistress well, don't you, Sailor? You see that wicked men don't breakinto her larder when she's out at her work--helping poor souls whohave lost their way. . . . But we're late--we must begin!" andscattering the rest of the water indiscriminately over the floor, shehurried Mary into the committee-room.