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Monday Or Tuesday
by Virginia Woolf
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SUCH AN EXPRESSION of unhappiness was enough by itself to make one's eyes slide above the paper's edge to the poor woman's face? insignificant without that look, almost a symbol of human destiny with it. Life's what you see in people's eyes; life's what they learn, and, having learnt it, never, though they seek to hide it, cease to be aware of? what? That life's like that, it seems.
Purchase one of 1st World Library's Classic Books and help support our free internet library of downloadable eBooks. Visit us online at www.1stWorldLibrary.ORG - - Whatever hour you woke there was a door shunting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure - a ghostly couple. 'Here we left it," she said. And he added, 'Oh, but here too!" 'It's upstairs," she murmured. 'And in the garden," he whispered 'Quietly," they said, 'or we shall wake them." But it wasn't that you woke us. Oh, no. 'They're looking for it; they're drawing the curtain," one might say, and so read on a page or two. 'Now they've found it," one would be certain, stopping the pencil on the margin. And then, tired of reading, one might rise and see for oneself, the house all empty, the doors standing open, only the wood pigeons bubbling with content and the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the farm. 'What did I come in here for? What did I want to find?" My hands were empty. 'Perhaps it's upstairs then?" The apples were in the loft. And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book had slipped into the grass.
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