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Woolf, Virginia, 1882-1941

"The Voyage Out"

" He sat in his favourite position with his arms binding his
legs together and his chin resting on the top of his knees. "I see
through everything--absolutely everything. Life has no more mysteries
for me." He spoke with conviction, but did not appear to wish for an
answer. Near though they sat, and familiar though they felt, they seemed
mere shadows to each other.
"And all those people down there going to sleep," Hewet began dreamily,
"thinking such different things,--Miss Warrington, I suppose, is now on
her knees; the Elliots are a little startled, it's not often _they_ get
out of breath, and they want to get to sleep as quickly as possible;
then there's the poor lean young man who danced all night with
Evelyn; he's putting his flower in water and asking himself, 'Is this
love?'--and poor old Perrott, I daresay, can't get to sleep at all,
and is reading his favourite Greek book to console himself--and the
others--no, Hirst," he wound up, "I don't find it simple at all."
"I have a key," said Hirst cryptically. His chin was still upon his
knees and his eyes fixed in front of him.
A silence followed. Then Helen rose and bade them good-night. "But," she
said, "remember that you've got to come and see us."
They waved good-night and parted, but the two young men did not go back
to the hotel; they went for a walk, during which they scarcely
spoke, and never mentioned the names of the two women, who were, to a
considerable extent, the subject of their thoughts.


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