Миссис Дэллоуэй

           Happinessisthis,isthis,hethought.

           “ButwhyshouldIaskallthedullwomeninLondontomyparties?”saidClarissa.AndifMrs.Marshamgaveaparty,didSHEinviteherguests?

           “PoorEllieHenderson,”saidRichard—itwasaveryoddthinghowmuchClarissamindedaboutherparties,hethought.

           ButRichardhadnonotionofthelookofaroom.However—whatwashegoingtosay?

           Ifsheworriedaboutthesepartieshewouldnotlethergivethem.DidshewishshehadmarriedPeter?Buthemustgo.

           Hemustbeoff,hesaid,gettingup.Buthestoodforamomentasifhewereabouttosaysomething;andshewonderedwhat?Why?Thereweretheroses.

           “SomeCommittee?”sheasked,asheopenedthedoor.

           “Armenians,”hesaid;orperhapsitwas“Albanians.”

           Andthereisadignityinpeople;asolitude;evenbetweenhusbandandwifeagulf;andthatonemustrespect,thoughtClarissa,watchinghimopenthedoor;foronewouldnotpartwithitoneself,ortakeit,againsthiswill,fromone’shusband,withoutlosingone’sindependence,one’sself-respect—something,afterall,priceless.

           Hereturnedwithapillowandaquilt.

           “Anhour’scompleterestafterluncheon,”hesaid.Andhewent.

           Howlikehim!Hewouldgoonsaying“Anhour’scompleterestafterluncheon”totheendoftime,becauseadoctorhadordereditonce.