The Hilberys subscribed to a library, whcih delivered books on Tuesdays and Fridays, and Katharine did her best to interest her parents in the works of living and highly respectable authors; but Mrs. Hilbery was perturbed by the very look of the light, gold-wreathed volumes, and would make little faces as if she tasted something bitter as the reading went on; while Mr. Hilbery would treat the moderns with a curious elaborate banter such as one might apply to the antics of a promising child. So this evening, after five pages or so of one these masters, Mrs. Hilbery protested that it was all too clever and cheap and nasty for words.
“Please, Katharine, read us something real.”
Katharine had to go to the bookcase and choose a portly volume in sleek, yellow calf, which had directly a sedative effect upon both her parents.
Woolf, Virginia. Night and Day. London: Vintage, 1992. First published 1919.