Ok, this has a completely different tone to Mrs Dalloway (and to To the Lighthouse). I guess the realities of war and post-war had not yet set in, and Woolf was still playing with more, erm, trivial themes.
She was obviously having fun, tho:
“Too emotional, somehow,” said Clarissa. “One notices it at once when a boy or girl takes up music as a profession. Sir William Broadley told me just the same thing. Don’t you hate the kind of attitudes people go into over Wagner—like this—” She cast her eyes to the ceiling, clasped her hands, and assumed a look of intensity. “It really doesn’t mean that they appreciate him; in fact, I always think it’s the other way round. The people who really care about an art are always the least affected. D’you know Henry Philips, the painter?” she asked.
“I have seen him,” said Helen.
“To look at, one might think he was a successful stockbroker, and not one of the greatest painters of the age. That’s what I like.”
“There are a great many successful stockbrokers, if you like looking at them,” said Helen.
Rachel wished vehemently that her aunt would not be so perverse.
“When you see a musician with long hair, don’t you know instinctively that he’s bad?” Clarissa asked, turning to Rachel.