Let me see。 There’s Chenier and Hugo and Alfred de
Musset—wonderful men； but； at the same time； there’s a
richness； a freshness about Alardyce—”
Here the telephone bell rang； and he had to absent
himself with a smile and a bow which signified that； although
literature is delightful； it is not work。 Mrs。 Seal
rose at the same time； but remained hovering over the
table； delivering herself of a tirade against party government。
“For if I were to tell you what I know of backstairs
intrigue； and what can be done by the power of the purse；
you wouldn’t credit me； Mr。 Denham； you wouldn’t； indeed。
Which is why I feel that the only work for my father’s
daughter—for he was one of the pioneers； Mr。 Denham；
and on his tombstone I had that verse from the Psalms
put； about the sowers and the seed… 。 And what wouldn’t
I give that he should be alive now； seeing what we’re
going to see—” but reflecting that the glories of the
future depended in part upon the activity of her typewriter；
she bobbed her head； and hurried back to the
seclusion of her little room； from which immediately issued
sounds of enthusiastic； but obviously erratic； position。
Mary made it clear at once； by starting a fresh topic of
general interest； that though she saw the humor of her
colleague； she did not intend to have her laughed at。
“The standard of morality seems to me frightfully low；”
she observed reflectively； pouring out a second cup of
tea； “especially among women who aren’t well educated。
They don’t see that small things matter； and that’s where
the leakage begins； and then we find ourselves in difficulties—
I very nearly lost my temper yesterday；” she went
on； looking at Ralph with a little smile； as though he
knew what happened when she lost her temper。 “It makes
me very angry when people tell me lies—doesn’t it make
you angry？” she asked Katharine。
“But considering that every one tells lies；” Katharine
remarked； looking about the room to see where she had
put down her umbrella and her parcel； for there was an
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intimacy in the way in which Mary and Ralph addressed
each other which made her wish to leave them。 Mary； on
the other hand； was anxious； superficially at least； that
Katharine should stay and so fortify her in her determination
not to be in love with Ralph。
Ralph； while lifting his cup from his lips to the table；
had made up his mind that if Miss Hilbery left； he would
go with her。
“I don’t think that I tell lies； and I don’t think that
Ralph tells lies； do you； Ralph？” Mary continued。
Katharine laughed； with more gayety； as it seemed to
Mary； than she could properly account for。 What was she
laughing at？ At them； presumably。 Katharine had risen；
and was glancing hither and thither； at the presses and
the cupboards； and all the machinery of the office； as if
she included them all in her rather malicious amusement；
which caused Mary to keep her eyes on her straightly and
rather fiercely； as if she were a gayplumed； mischievous
bird； who might light on the topmost bough and pick off
the ruddiest cherry； without any warning。 Two women
less like each other could scarcely be imagined； Ralph
thought； looking from one to the other。 Next moment； he
too； rose； and nodding to Mary； as Katharine said goodbye；
opened the door for her； and followed her out。
Mary sat still and made no attempt to prevent them
from going。 For a second or two after the door had shut
on them her eyes rested on the door with a straightforward
fierceness in which； for a moment； a certain degree
of bewilderment seemed to enter； but； after a brief hesitation；
she put down her cup and proceeded to clear away
the teathings。
The impulse which had driven Ralph to take this action
was the result of a very swift little piece of reasoning；
and thus； perhaps； was not quite so much of an impulse
as it seemed。 It passed through his mind that if he missed
this chance of talking to Katharine； he would have to
face an enraged ghost； when he was alone in his room
again； demanding an explanation of his cowardly indecision。
It was better； on the whole； to risk present disfiture
than to waste an evening bandying excuses and
constructing impossible scenes with this unpromising
section of himself。 For ever since he had visited the
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Hilberys he had been much at the mercy of a phantom
Katharine； who came to him when he sat alone； and answered
him as he would have her answer； and was always
beside him to crown those varying triumphs which were
transacted almost every night； in imaginary scenes； as he
walked through the lamplit streets home from the office。
To walk with Katharine in the flesh would either feed
that phantom with fresh food； which； as all who nourish
dreams are aware； is a process that bees necessary
from time to time； or refine it to such a degree of thinness
that it was scarcely serviceable any longer； and that；
too； is sometimes a wele change to a dreamer。 And
all the time Ralph was well aware that the bulk of Katharine
was not represented in his dreams at all； so that when he
met her he was bewildered by the fact that she had nothing
to do with his dream of her。
When； on reaching the street； Katharine found that Mr。
Denham proceeded to keep pace by her side； she was
surprised and； perhaps； a little annoyed。 She； too； had
her margin of imagination； and tonight her activity in
this obscure region of the mind required solitude。 If she
had had her way； she would have walked very fast down
the Tottenham Court Road； and then sprung into a cab and
raced swiftly home。 The view she had had of the inside of
an office was of the nature of a dream to her。 Shut off up
there； she pared Mrs。 Seal； and Mary Datchet； and Mr。
Clacton to enchanted people in a bewitched tower； with
the spiders’ webs looping across the corners of the room；
and all the tools of the necromancer’s craft at hand； for so
aloof and unreal and apart from the normal world did they
seem to her； in the house of innumerable typewriters；
murmuring their incantations and concocting their drugs；
and flinging their frail spiders’ webs over the torrent of life
which rushed down the streets outside。
She may have been conscious that there was some exaggeration
in this fancy of hers； for she certainly did not
wish to share it with Ralph。 To him； she supposed； Mary
Datchet； posing leaflets for Cabi Ministers among
her typewriters； represented all that was interesting and
genuine； and； accordingly； she shut them both out from
all share in the crowded street； with its pendant necklace
of lamps； its lighted windows； and its throng of men and
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Night and Day
women； which exhilarated her to such an extent that she
very nearly forgot her panion。 She walked very fast；
and the effect of people passing in the opposite direction
was to produce a queer dizziness both in her head
and in Ralph’s； which set their bodies far apart。 But she
did her duty by her panion almost unconsciously。
“Mary Datchet does that sort of work very well… 。 She’s
responsible for it； I suppose？”
“Yes。 The others don’t help at all… 。 Has she made a
convert of you？”
“Oh no。 That is； I’m a convert already。”
“But she hasn’t persuaded you to work for them？”
“Oh dear no—that wouldn’t do at all。”
So they walked on down the Tottenham Court Road；
parting and ing together again； and Ralph felt much
as though he were addressing the summit of a poplar in a
high gale of wind。
“Suppose we get on to that omnibus？” he suggested。
Katharine acquiesced； and they climbed up； and found
themselves alone on top of it。
“But which way are you going？” Katharine asked； wak
ing a little from the trance into which movement among
moving things had thrown her。
“I’m going to the Temple；” Ralph replied； inventing a
destination on the spur of the moment。 He felt the change
e over her as they sat down and the omnibus began
to move forward。 He imagined her contemplating the avenue
in front of them with those honest sad eyes which
seemed to set him at such a distance from them。 But the
breeze was blowing in their faces； it lifted her hat for a
second； and she drew out a pin and stuck it in again；—a
little action which seemed； for some reason； to make her
rather more fallible。 Ah； if only her hat would blow off；
and leave her altogether disheveled； accepting it from
his hands！
“This is like Venice；” she observed； raising her hand。
“The motorcars； I mean； shooting about so quickly； with
their lights。”
“I’ve never seen Venice；” he replied。 “I keep that and
some other things for my old age。”
“What are the other things？” she asked。
“There’s Venice and India and； I think； Dante； too。”
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She laughed。
“Think of providing for one’s old age！ And would you
refuse to see Venice if you had the chance？”
Instead of answering her； he wondered whether he
should tell her somet