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Woolf, Virginia, 1882-1941

"The Voyage Out"

They sat side by
side. Sounds stood out from the background making a bridge across their
silence; they heard the swish of the trees and some beast croaking in a
remote world.
"We love each other," Terence repeated, searching into her face. Their
faces were both very pale and quiet, and they said nothing. He was
afraid to kiss her again. By degrees she drew close to him, and rested
against him. In this position they sat for some time. She said "Terence"
once; he answered "Rachel."
"Terrible--terrible," she murmured after another pause, but in saying
this she was thinking as much of the persistent churning of the water as
of her own feeling. On and on it went in the distance, the senseless and
cruel churning of the water. She observed that the tears were running
down Terence's cheeks.
The next movement was on his part. A very long time seemed to have
passed. He took out his watch.
"Flushing said an hour. We've been gone more than half an hour."
"And it takes that to get back," said Rachel. She raised herself very
slowly. When she was standing up she stretched her arms and drew a deep
breath, half a sigh, half a yawn. She appeared to be very tired. Her
cheeks were white. "Which way?" she asked.
"There," said Terence.
They began to walk back down the mossy path again. The sighing and
creaking continued far overhead, and the jarring cries of animals.


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