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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 31/72
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"
People
soon
drift
apart
,
"
said
Mr.
Bankes
,
feeling
,
however
,
some
satisfaction
when
he
thought
that
after
all
he
knew
both
the
Mannings
and
the
Ramsays
.
He
had
not
drifted
apart
he
thought
,
laying
down
his
spoon
and
wiping
his
clean-shaven
lips
punctiliously
.
But
perhaps
he
was
rather
unusual
,
he
thought
,
in
this
;
he
never
let
himself
get
into
a
groove
.
He
had
friends
in
all
circles
...
Mrs.
Ramsay
had
to
break
off
here
to
tell
the
maid
something
about
keeping
food
hot
.
That
was
why
he
preferred
dining
alone
.
All
those
interruptions
annoyed
him
.
Well
,
thought
William
Bankes
,
preserving
a
demeanour
of
exquisite
courtesy
and
merely
spreading
the
fingers
of
his
left
hand
on
the
table-cloth
as
a
mechanic
examines
a
tool
beautifully
polished
and
ready
for
use
in
an
interval
of
leisure
,
such
are
the
sacrifices
one
's
friends
ask
of
one
.
It
would
have
hurt
her
if
he
had
refused
to
come
.
But
it
was
not
worth
it
for
him
.
Looking
at
his
hand
he
thought
that
if
he
had
been
alone
dinner
would
have
been
almost
over
now
;
he
would
have
been
free
to
work
.
Yes
,
he
thought
,
it
is
a
terrible
waste
of
time
.
The
children
were
dropping
in
still
.
"
I
wish
one
of
you
would
run
up
to
Roger
's
room
,
"
Mrs.
Ramsay
was
saying
.
How
trifling
it
all
is
,
how
boring
it
all
is
,
he
thought
,
compared
with
the
other
thing
--
work
.
Here
he
sat
drumming
his
fingers
on
the
table-cloth
when
he
might
have
been
--
he
took
a
flashing
bird
's
-
eye
view
of
his
work
.
What
a
waste
of
time
it
all
was
to
be
sure
!
Yet
,
he
thought
,
she
is
one
of
my
oldest
friends
.
I
am
by
way
of
being
devoted
to
her
.
Yet
now
,
at
this
moment
her
presence
meant
absolutely
nothing
to
him
:
her
beauty
meant
nothing
to
him
;
her
sitting
with
her
little
boy
at
the
window
--
nothing
,
nothing
.
He
wished
only
to
be
alone
and
to
take
up
that
book
.
He
felt
uncomfortable
;
he
felt
treacherous
,
that
he
could
sit
by
her
side
and
feel
nothing
for
her
.
The
truth
was
that
he
did
not
enjoy
family
life
.
It
was
in
this
sort
of
state
that
one
asked
oneself
,
What
does
one
live
for
?
Why
,
one
asked
oneself
,
does
one
take
all
these
pains
for
the
human
race
to
go
on
?
Is
it
so
very
desirable
?
Are
we
attractive
as
a
species
?
Not
so
very
,
he
thought
,
looking
at
those
rather
untidy
boys
.
His
favourite
,
Cam
,
was
in
bed
,
he
supposed
.
Foolish
questions
,
vain
questions
,
questions
one
never
asked
if
one
was
occupied
.
Is
human
life
this
?
Is
human
life
that
?
One
never
had
time
to
think
about
it
.
But
here
he
was
asking
himself
that
sort
of
question
,
because
Mrs.
Ramsay
was
giving
orders
to
servants
,
and
also
because
it
had
struck
him
,
thinking
how
surprised
Mrs.
Ramsay
was
that
Carrie
Manning
should
still
exist
,
that
friendships
,
even
the
best
of
them
,
are
frail
things
.
One
drifts
apart
.
He
reproached
himself
again
.
He
was
sitting
beside
Mrs.
Ramsay
and
he
had
nothing
in
the
world
to
say
to
her
.
"
I
'm
so
sorry
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
,
turning
to
him
at
last
.
He
felt
rigid
and
barren
,
like
a
pair
of
boots
that
have
been
soaked
and
gone
dry
so
that
you
can
hardly
force
your
feet
into
them
.
Yet
he
must
force
his
feet
into
them
.
He
must
make
himself
talk
.
Unless
he
were
very
careful
,
she
would
find
out
this
treachery
of
his
;
that
he
did
not
care
a
straw
for
her
,
and
that
would
not
be
at
all
pleasant
,
he
thought
.
So
he
bent
his
head
courteously
in
her
direction
.
"
How
you
must
detest
dining
in
this
bear
garden
,
"
she
said
,
making
use
,
as
she
did
when
she
was
distracted
,
of
her
social
manner
.
So
,
when
there
is
a
strife
of
tongues
,
at
some
meeting
,
the
chairman
,
to
obtain
unity
,
suggests
that
every
one
shall
speak
in
French
.
Perhaps
it
is
bad
French
;
French
may
not
contain
the
words
that
express
the
speaker
's
thoughts
;
nevertheless
speaking
French
imposes
some
order
,
some
uniformity
.
Replying
to
her
in
the
same
language
,
Mr.
Bankes
said
,
"
No
,
not
at
all
,
"
and
Mr.
Tansley
,
who
had
no
knowledge
of
this
language
,
even
spoke
thus
in
words
of
one
syllable
,
at
once
suspected
its
insincerity
.
They
did
talk
nonsense
,
he
thought
,
the
Ramsays
;
and
he
pounced
on
this
fresh
instance
with
joy
,
making
a
note
which
,
one
of
these
days
,
he
would
read
aloud
,
to
one
or
two
friends
.
There
,
in
a
society
where
one
could
say
what
one
liked
he
would
sarcastically
describe
"
staying
with
the
Ramsays
"
and
what
nonsense
they
talked
.
It
was
worth
while
doing
it
once
,
he
would
say
;
but
not
again
.
The
women
bored
one
so
,
he
would
say
.
Of
course
Ramsay
had
dished
himself
by
marrying
a
beautiful
woman
and
having
eight
children
.
It
would
shape
itself
something
like
that
,
but
now
,
at
this
moment
,
sitting
stuck
there
with
an
empty
seat
beside
him
,
nothing
had
shaped
itself
at
all
.
It
was
all
in
scraps
and
fragments
.
He
felt
extremely
,
even
physically
,
uncomfortable
.
He
wanted
somebody
to
give
him
a
chance
of
asserting
himself
.
He
wanted
it
so
urgently
that
he
fidgeted
in
his
chair
,
looked
at
this
person
,
then
at
that
person
,
tried
to
break
into
their
talk
,
opened
his
mouth
and
shut
it
again
.
They
were
talking
about
the
fishing
industry
.
Why
did
no
one
ask
him
his
opinion
?
What
did
they
know
about
the
fishing
industry
?
Lily
Briscoe
knew
all
that
.
Sitting
opposite
him
,
could
she
not
see
,
as
in
an
X-ray
photograph
,
the
ribs
and
thigh
bones
of
the
young
man
's
desire
to
impress
himself
,
lying
dark
in
the
mist
of
his
flesh
--
that
thin
mist
which
convention
had
laid
over
his
burning
desire
to
break
into
the
conversation
?
But
,
she
thought
,
screwing
up
her
Chinese
eyes
,
and
remembering
how
he
sneered
at
women
,
"
ca
n't
paint
,
ca
n't
write
,
"
why
should
I
help
him
to
relieve
himself
?
There
is
a
code
of
behaviour
,
she
knew
,
whose
seventh
article
(
it
may
be
)
says
that
on
occasions
of
this
sort
it
behoves
the
woman
,
whatever
her
own
occupation
might
be
,
to
go
to
the
help
of
the
young
man
opposite
so
that
he
may
expose
and
relieve
the
thigh
bones
,
the
ribs
,
of
his
vanity
,
of
his
urgent
desire
to
assert
himself
;
as
indeed
it
is
their
duty
,
she
reflected
,
in
her
old
maidenly
fairness
,
to
help
us
,
suppose
the
Tube
were
to
burst
into
flames
.
Then
,
she
thought
,
I
should
certainly
expect
Mr.
Tansley
to
get
me
out
.
But
how
would
it
be
,
she
thought
,
if
neither
of
us
did
either
of
these
things
?
So
she
sat
there
smiling
.
"
You
're
not
planning
to
go
to
the
Lighthouse
,
are
you
,
Lily
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
.
"
Remember
poor
Mr.
Langley
;
he
had
been
round
the
world
dozens
of
times
,
but
he
told
me
he
never
suffered
as
he
did
when
my
husband
took
him
there
.
Are
you
a
good
sailor
,
Mr.
Tansley
?
"
she
asked
.
