without order the current
impression of things on her mind.

In the early morning of the 4th of May she sat, night-gowned, on the foot
of her white bed, with chestnut hair all fluffy about her neck, eyes
bright and cheeks still rosy with sleep, scribbling away and rubbing one
bare foot against the other in the ecstasy of self-expression. Now and
then, in the middle of a sentence, she would stop and look out of the
window, or stretch herself deliciously, as though life were too full of
joy for her to finish anything.

"I went into grandfather's room yesterday, and stayed while he was
dictating to the little model. I do think grandfather's so splendid.
Martin says an enthusiast is worse than useless; people, he says, can't
afford to dabble in ideas or dreams. He calls grandfather's idea
paleolithic. I hate him to be laughed at. Martin's so cocksure. I
don't think he'd find many men of eighty who'd bathe in the Serpentine
all the year round, and do his own room, cook his own food, and live on
about ninety pounds a year out of his pension of three hundred, and give
all the rest away. Martin says that's unsound, and the 'Book of
Universal Brotherhood' rot. I don't care if it is; it's fine to go on
writing it as he does all day. Martin admits that. That's the worst of
him: he's so cool, you can't score him off; he seems to be always
criticising you; it makes me wild.... That little model is a hopeless
duffer. I could have taken it all down in half the time. She kept
stopping and looking up with that mouth of hers half open, as if she had
all day before her. Grandfather's so absorbed he doesn't notice; he likes
to read the thing over and over, to hear how the words sound. That girl
would be no good at any sort of work, except 'sitting,' I suppose. Aunt
B. used to say she sat well. There's something queer about her face; it
reminds me a little of that Botticelli Madonna in the National Gallery,
the full-face one; not so much in the shape as in the expression--almost
stupid, and yet as if things were going to happen to her. Her hands and
arms are pretty, and her feet are smaller than mine. She's two years
older than me. I asked her why she went in for being a model, which is
beastly work. She said she was glad to get anything! I asked her why
she didn't go into a shop or into service. She didn't answer at once,
and then said she hadn't had any recommendations--didn't know where to
try; then, all of a sudden