Virginia Woolf in Manhattan. Maggie Gee
dry about it – I tried it on last of a pile of things, I was about to take it off and leave, but at the last second I turned up the collar in the mirror of the changing-room – and in that instant, looking back at me, boyish, over my shoulder was the ghost of a self I had been once, witty, wide-eyed, mischievous, young. I peered through the curtains and summoned Angela.
‘I want to keep this,’ I said, and laughed.
‘Why are you laughing?’ She sounded suspicious. ‘Did you choose the most expensive one?’
It wasn’t her fault. Though she had good points, she constantly showed a side that was – common. I don’t like to use that word, of course one’s egalitarian, but Angela was obsessed with money. Perhaps she could not sell her books. When I inquired, she got rather angry & claimed she was actually ‘a best-seller’. I was fifty before I started making money, so I tried to judge her less severely.
Today I will have money of my own! One does need money – I’ll try that again. We all need money and a room of our own – I must remember not to use the ‘one’, I have noticed it’s fallen out of fashion, as if no-one wants to be singular now. Everything is ‘we’ – they feel things in herds, the citizens of the twenty-first century.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.