“Nothin’ that’s more than twenty years old interests me,” she continued. “Mouldy old pictures, dirty old books, they stick ’em in museums when they’re only fit for burnin’.”
“I quite agree,” Helen laughed. “But my husband spends his life in digging up manuscripts which nobody wants.”
She was amused by Ridley’s expression of startled disapproval.
Well, this is not Forster, and I am sure Woolf could have saved us a few dozen pages. However, this is also kind of incredible in that the slow, sloooow, development does create some deep knowledge of the characters...and much like the people we meet on the journey and at the resort, the more I get to know the characters the better I like and understand what Woolf was doing here.
Don't pick this up if you're looking for a plot, tho. This book has never even been lying on the same desk as a plot outline.