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Updated: June 1, 2025
Dalloway saw with relief that though slightly eccentric in appearance, she was not untidy, held herself well, and her voice had restraint in it, which she held to be the sign of a lady. Mr. Pepper had not troubled to change his neat ugly suit. "But after all," Clarissa thought to herself as she followed Vinrace in to dinner, "every one's interesting really."
"Horrid mess!" She was trying to apologise for white underclothes fallen and scattered on the floor. For one second she opened a single eye, and saw that the room was tidy. "That's nice," she gasped. Helen left her; far, far away she knew that she felt a kind of liking for Mrs. Dalloway. She could not help respecting her spirit and her desire, even in the throes of sickness, for a tidy bedroom.
He led her off to his own quarters, and, sitting on the edge of a brass-bound table, looking uncommonly like a sea-gull, with her white tapering body and thin alert face, Mrs. Dalloway had to listen to the tirade of a fanatical man. Did she realise, to begin with, what a very small part of the world the land was? How peaceful, how beautiful, how benignant in comparison the sea?
Rachel followed her eyes and found that they rested for a second, on the robust figure of Richard Dalloway, who was engaged in striking a match on the sole of his boot; while Willoughby expounded something, which seemed to be of great interest to them both. "There's nothing like it," she concluded. "Do tell me about the Ambroses. Or am I asking too many questions?"
Here he began searching in his pockets and eventually discovered a card, which he planked down on the table before Rachel. On it she read, "Mr. and Mrs. Richard Dalloway, 23 Browne Street, Mayfair." "Mr.
She was overcome by an intense desire to tell Mrs. Dalloway things she had never told any one things she had not realised herself until this moment. "I am lonely," she began. "I want " She did not know what she wanted, so that she could not finish the sentence; but her lip quivered. But it seemed that Mrs. Dalloway was able to understand without words.
"Hirst and Hewet, they're all the same to me all covered with spots," he replied. "He advises her to read Gibbon. Did you know that?" Helen did not know that, but she would not allow herself inferior to her husband in powers of observation. She merely said: "Nothing would surprise me. Even that dreadful flying man we met at the dance even Mr. Dalloway even "
Speech was again beyond Clarissa's reach. The wind laid the ship shivering on her side. Pale agonies crossed Mrs. Dalloway in waves. When the curtains flapped, grey lights puffed across her. Between the spasms of the storm, Helen made the curtain fast, shook the pillows, stretched the bed-clothes, and smoothed the hot nostrils and forehead with cold scent. "You are good!" Clarissa gasped.
Thereupon Mrs. Dalloway turned to the cool side of her pillow, terribly flattened but still invincible. Richard found Helen talking to her brother-in-law, over two dishes of yellow cake and smooth bread and butter. "You look very ill!" she exclaimed on seeing him. "Come and have some tea." He remarked that the hands that moved about the cups were beautiful.
I should think it an honour to instruct you." Helen, engaged with Mr. Dalloway and the habit, now fallen into decline, of quoting Greek in the House of Commons, noted, in the great commonplace book that lies open beside us as we talk, the fact that all men, even men like Ridley, really prefer women to be fashionable. Clarissa exclaimed that she could think of nothing more delightful.
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