Maggy said very little about Woolf. On certain topics there was a
barrier of silence between the two girls, imposed by Alexandra. Maggy
was disposed to be utterly unreserved, crude. Brought up in stage
surroundings she had heard undiscussable things talked of openly all her
life. Alexandra showed such distaste for laxity of speech that Maggy
now refrained from touching on the subject of sex almost entirely. Had
she been unreserved about Woolf, his conversation with her and her own
attitude toward him, she would have had to show herself in a light that
Alexandra would have disliked and certainly not understood.
Maggy was never quite sure in her mind whether Alexandra was very cold
by nature or completely reserved. She, herself, belonged to the type of
woman, not a rare one, who can discuss her marital relations with others
with a frankness that no man would ever dream of employing when speaking
of his wife to his most intimate friend. Alexandra, except under
extraordinary stress, would be as secretive as a man. To discuss sexual
emotions or indulge in speculation about them with another girl was a
thing quite foreign to her. At school she had, in that sense, been a
being apart, while the other girls whispered in corners. Instinctively
she shrank from having her mind contaminated by second-hand knowledge of
the most vital and delicate functions of nature.
Her upbringing had been different from Maggy's. Maggy's mind had been
forced prematurely on the hot-bed of theatrical laxity. Alexandra's
life, up till the last year, had been one of calm and sweet
companionship with an adored mother. She had lived a healthy, normal
existence, met men of her own class who would no more have dreamt of
thinking irreverently of her than of their own mothers or sisters. She
was aware that strong passions, illicit unions, and trouble and misery
resulting from immorality, did exist in the world. She read of these
things in newspapers and the books that were never kept from her; but
these passions and unions and dissolving of unions seemed things that
did not touch her class.
She came into active collision with them for the first time when she
went on the stage. She could not shut her eyes to the condition of
things there any more than she could shut her ears to the sordid
language of the girls in their common dressing room. But it made her
ashamed to be a woman, a being of the same sex. These girls thought of
men only in one way. The men whom they spoke of as their "boys" or
their "friends" were certainly not any coarser in mind than the girls
themselves. They had no more reserves of speech than factory-hands.
There were exceptions here and there, but being exceptions they were
negligible as a power of reform.
Some girls attained their positions legitimately, she knew; but how few?
One could count them on the fingers of one hand. Every one of them had
had some one, a mother or a father to look after them, a father who
waited at the stage-door every night, a comfortable home. They had been
dressed well by their people. Though in the chorus, they had never
known its strain and stress, for they had not been of it. Its hardships
and temptations had, so to speak, been screened from them, and they had
been curiously impervious to its language. Hence it was that their
reputations had not suffered.
Even out of musical comedy how few illustrious names were unassociated
with scandal. Alexandra had heard the true story of how one of
England's most prominent actresses was selected for her first important
part--that of a courtesan. An actress sufficiently convincing in the
role could not be found, till at last the author of the play exclaimed
in exasperation: "Well, if we can't get the actress, let's have the
woman." The equivalent had been lauded by the Press and the public, and
the author's fees had not appreciably diminished!
Alexandra knew now that her own chance of succeeding through hard work
or any talent she might possess was about one in a thousand. She learnt
of the many capable actors and actresses--some of them more than
capable--who were touring the provinces year after year, and would wear
out their souls and their lives touring the provinces. It was more than
a hard struggle for the women: women were scarcely given a fighting
chance.
Yet all she could do was to fight, fight all the time so as not to drop
out; to make a bare living, not to lose sight of ambition's pinnacle
while she was forced to dwell in the plains of penury. But as regards
Maggy she would not influence her one way or the other. Maggy would
have to decide for herself.
During the ensuing week they were less together than they had ever been.
In the morning Maggy was at the theater while Alexandra went the round
of the stage-doors to see if there was a chance of her being taken on.
Very often they did not meet till after the show in the evening. For
the first two nights Alexandra had gone to meet Maggy and had walked
back with her; but now Maggy came home in Woolf's car. She said nothing
about him. Alexandra asked no questions.