Миссис Дэллоуэй

           Atlast,withamelodramaticgesturewhichheassumedmechanicallyandwithcompleteconsciousnessofitsinsincerity,hedroppedhisheadonhishands.Nowhehadsurrendered;nowotherpeoplemusthelphim.Peoplemustbesentfor.Hegavein.

           Nothingcouldrousehim.Reziaputhimtobed.Shesentforadoctor—Mrs.Filmer’sDr.Holmes.Dr.Holmesexaminedhim.Therewasnothingwhateverthematter,saidDr.Holmes.Oh,whatarelief!Whatakindman,whatagoodman!thoughtRezia.WhenhefeltlikethathewenttotheMusicHall,saidDr.Holmes.Hetookadayoffwithhiswifeandplayedgolf.Whynottrytwotabloidsofbromidedissolvedinaglassofwateratbedtime?TheseoldBloomsburyhouses,saidDr.Holmes,tappingthewall,areoftenfullofveryfinepanelling,whichthelandlordshavethefollytopaperover.Onlytheotherday,visitingapatient,SirSomebodySomethinginBedfordSquare—

           Sotherewasnoexcuse;nothingwhateverthematter,exceptthesinforwhichhumannaturehadcondemnedhimtodeath;thathedidnotfeel.HehadnotcaredwhenEvanswaskilled;thatwasworst;butalltheothercrimesraisedtheirheadsandshooktheirfingersandjeeredandsneeredovertherailofthebedintheearlyhoursofthemorningattheprostratebodywhichlayrealisingitsdegradation;howhehadmarriedhiswifewithoutlovingher;hadliedtoher;seducedher;outragedMissIsabelPole,andwassopockedandmarkedwithvicethatwomenshudderedwhentheysawhiminthestreet.