Oh, why could everything not have been different? She looked away from the Malloys and tried to measure the distance, the great distance, between her and the door that would provide her with escape. Why could everything not have been different, but if everything had been different, everything would still have seemed exactly as strange to her. Her mother said, “Rose simply does not know the difference.” Another time, her mother said, “Rose, you don’t know the difference and you will not learn.” But why could everything not have been different? Why could Hubert Derdon not have asked her to dance at least once? From time to time during the evening, she had seen him watching her and she thought he had even nodded at her once in a while as she danced around, but he had never made a move to come near her and now there was no sign of him at all. Why had Jim Nolan asked her to dance if he was only going to make a fool of her? Why had Mrs. Ramsay not made some sign of recognition, and why had Father Kane not even taken the trouble to speak to her? Why were the ceilings so high in this house, and why were all the girls so sure of themselves, and why had nobody taken the trouble to see that she, Rose, got something to eat, or a glass of lemonade at least? She was not going to walk into that dining room by herself and walk up to the table, or tables, or whatever they had, and ask for something as if she were a beggar.

The only thing to do now was to get out of the room as quickly as she could. It did not matter who saw her or what they said about her. It could not be helped if Hubert was around the hall and saw her. She did not care what he thought or what anybody thought. She longed to be at home and out of sight. She would make her way out of the room and go upstairs and take her raincoat off the big rack that was set along on the landing up there. Then she would slip out of the house and go home by herself. It was a very long way and she was afraid of the dark, but she had to get home. Her mother would want to know what sort of a feast Mrs. Ramsay had provided and she would not be able to tell her. And where was the music coming from? She knew nothing. She felt she knew nothing.