imagined。 She was a practical woman； a domestic wife for an inferior poet； endowed with romantic beauty by some freak of unintelligent Nature。 No doubt her beauty itself would not stand examination。 He had the means of settling this point at least。 He possessed a book of photographs from the Greek statues； the head of a goddess； if the lower part were concealed； had often given him the ecstasy of being in Katharine’s presence。 He took it down from the shelf and found the picture。 To this he added a note from her； bidding him meet her at the Zoo。 He had a flower which he had picked at Kew to teach her botany。 Such were his relics。 He placed them before him； and set himself to visualize her so clearly that no deception or delusion was possible。 In a second he could see her； with the sun slanting across her dress； ing towards him down the green walk at Kew。 He made her sit upon the seat beside him。 He heard her voice； so low and yet so decided in its tone； she spoke reasonably of indifferent matters。 He could see her faults； and analyze her virtues。 His pulse became quieter； and his brain increased in clarity。 This time she could not escape him。 The illusion of her presence became more and more plete。 They seemed to pass in and out of each other’s minds； questioning and answering。 The utmost fullness of munion seemed to be theirs。 Thus united； he felt himself raised to an eminence； exalted； and filled with a power of achievement such as he had never known in singleness。 Once more he told over conscientiously her faults； both of face and character； they were clearly known to him； but they merged themselves in the flawless union that was born of their association。 They surveyed life to its uttermost limits。 How deep it was when looked at from 335 Night and Day this height！ How sublime！ How the monest things moved him almost to tears！ Thus； he forgot the inevitable limitations； he forgot her absence； he thought it of no account whether she married him or another； nothing mattered； save that she should exist； and that he should love her。 Some words of these reflections were uttered aloud； and it happened that among them were the words； “I love her。” It was the first time that he had used the word “love” to describe his feeling； madness； romance； hallucination—he had called it by these names before； but having； apparently by accident； stumbled upon the word “love；” he repeated it again and again with a sense of revelation。 “But I’m in love with you！” he exclaimed； with something like dismay。 He leant against the windowsill； looking over the city as she had looked。 Everything had bee miraculously different and pletely distinct。 His feelings were justified and needed no further explanation。 But he must impart them to some one； because his discovery was so important that it concerned other people too。 Shutting the book of Greek photographs； and hiding his relics； he ran downstairs； snatched his coat； and passed out of doors。 The lamps were being lit； but the streets were dark enough and empty enough to let him walk his fastest； and to talk aloud as he walked。 He had no doubt where he was going。 He was going to find Mary Datchet。 The desire to share what he felt； with some one who understood it； was so imperious that he did not question it。 He was soon in her street。 He ran up the stairs leading to her flat two steps at a time； and it never crossed his mind that she might not be at home。 As he rang her bell； he seemed to himself to be announcing the presence of something wonderful that was separate from himself； and gave him power and authority over all other people。 Mary came to the door after a moment’s pause。 He was perfectly silent； and in the dusk his face looked pletely white。 He followed her into her room。 “Do you know each other？” she said； to his extreme surprise； for he had counted on finding her alone。 A young man rose； and said that he knew Ralph by sight。 “We were just going through some papers；” said Mary。 336 Virginia Woolf “Mr。 Bast has to help me； because I don’t know much about my work yet。 It’s the new society；” she explained。 “I’m the secretary。 I’m no longer at Russell Square。” The voice in which she gave this information was so constrained as to sound almost harsh。 “What are your aims？” said Ralph。 He looked neither at Mary nor at Mr。 Bast。 Mr。 Bast thought he had seldom seen a more disagreeable or formidable man than this friend of Mary’s； this sarcasticlooking； whitefaced Mr。 Denham； who seemed to demand； as if by right； an account of their proposals； and to criticize them before he had heard them。 Nevertheless； he explained his projects as clearly as he could； and knew that he wished Mr。 Denham to think well of them。 “I see；” said Ralph； when he had done。 “D’you know； Mary；” he suddenly remarked； “I believe I’m in for a cold。 Have you any quinine？” The look which he cast at her frightened her； it expressed mutely； perhaps without his own consciousness； something deep； wild； and passionate。 She left the room at once。 Her heart beat fast at the knowledge of Ralph’s presence； but it beat with pain； and with an extraordinary fear。 She stood listening for a moment to the voices in the next room。 “Of course； I agree with you；” she heard Ralph say； in this strange voice； to Mr。 Bast。 “But there’s more that might be done。 Have you seen Judson； for instance？ You should make a point of getting him。” Mary returned with the quinine。 “Judson’s address？” Mr。 Bast inquired； pulling out his notebook and preparing to write。 For twenty minutes； perhaps； he wrote down names； addresses； and other suggestions that Ralph dictated to him。 Then； when Ralph fell silent； Mr。 Bast felt that his presence was not desired； and thanking Ralph for his help； with a sense that he was very young and ignorant pared with him； he said goodbye。 “Mary；” said Ralph； directly Mr。 Bast had shut the door and they were alone together。 “