Миссис Дэллоуэй

           DallowayjumpandMissPymgotothewindowandapologisecamefromamotorcarwhichhaddrawntothesideofthepavementpreciselyoppositeMulberry’sshopwindow.Passers-bywho,ofcourse,stoppedandstared,hadjusttimetoseeafaceoftheverygreatestimportanceagainstthedove-greyupholstery,beforeamalehanddrewtheblindandtherewasnothingtobeseenexceptasquareofdovegrey.

           YetrumourswereatonceincirculationfromthemiddleofBondStreettoOxfordStreetononeside,toAtkinson’sscentshopontheother,passinginvisibly,inaudibly,likeacloud,swift,veil-likeuponhills,fallingindeedwithsomethingofacloud’ssuddensobrietyandstillnessuponfaceswhichasecondbeforehadbeenutterlydisorderly.Butnowmysteryhadbrushedthemwithherwing;theyhadheardthevoiceofauthority;thespiritofreligionwasabroadwithhereyesbandagedtightandherlipsgapingwide.Butnobodyknewwhosefacehadbeenseen.WasitthePrinceofWales’s,theQueen’s,thePrimeMinister’s?Whosefacewasit?Nobodyknew.

           EdgarJ.Watkiss,withhisrollofleadpipingroundhisarm,saidaudibly,humorouslyofcourse:“TheProimeMinister’skyar.”

           SeptimusWarrenSmith,whofoundhimselfunabletopass,heardhim.

           SeptimusWarrenSmith,agedaboutthirty,pale-faced,beak-nosed,wearingbrownshoesandashabbyovercoat,withhazeleyeswhichhadthatlookofapprehensioninthemwhichmakescompletestrangersapprehensivetoo.