“_Who’s Who_,” she said, laying it upon Helen’s knee and turning the pages. “It gives short lives of people—for instance: ‘Sir Roland Beal; born 1852; parents from Moffatt; educated at Rugby; passed first into R.E.; married 1878 the daughter of T. Fishwick; served in the Bechuanaland Expedition 1884-85 (honourably mentioned). Clubs: United Service, Naval and Military. Recreations: an enthusiastic curler.’”
Sitting on the deck at Helen’s feet she went on turning the pages and reading biographies of bankers, writers, clergymen, sailors, surgeons, judges, professors, statesmen, editors, philanthropists, merchants, and actresses; what clubs they belonged to, where they lived, what games they played, and how many acres they owned.
Helen meanwhile stitched at her embroidery and thought over the things they had said. Her conclusion was that she would very much like to show her niece, if it were possible, how to live, or as she put it, how to be a reasonable person. She thought that there must be something wrong in this confusion between politics and kissing politicians, and that an elder person ought to be able to help.
“I quite agree,” she said, “that people are very interesting; only—” Rachel, putting her finger between the pages, looked up enquiringly.
“Only I think you ought to discriminate,” she ended. “It’s a pity to be intimate with people who are—well, rather second-rate, like the Dalloways, and to find it out later.”
“I really can’t tell you,” replied Helen candidly, after a moment’s thought. “You’ll have to find out for yourself. But try and—Why don’t you call me Helen?” she added. “‘Aunt’s’ a horrid name. I never liked my Aunts.”
“I should like to call you Helen,” Rachel answered.
Rachel reviewed the points which Helen had certainly failed to understand; they arose chiefly from the difference of nearly twenty years in age between them, which made Mrs. Ambrose appear too humorous and cool in a matter of such moment.
“No,” she said. “Some things you don’t understand, of course.”
“Of course,” Helen agreed. “So now you can go ahead and be a person on your own account,” she added.
The vision of her own personality, of herself as a real everlasting thing, different from anything else, unmergeable, like the sea or the wind, flashed into Rachel’s mind, and she became profoundly excited at the thought of living.