Миссис Дэллоуэй

           Itwasherwayofeating,eatingwithintensity,thenlooking,againandagain,ataplateofsugaredcakesonthetablenextthem;then,whenaladyandachildsatdownandthechildtookthecake,couldMissKilmanreallymindit?Yes,MissKilmandidmindit.Shehadwantedthatcake—thepinkone.Thepleasureofeatingwasalmosttheonlypurepleasurelefther,andthentobebaffledeveninthat!

           Whenpeoplearehappy,theyhaveareserve,shehadtoldElizabeth,uponwhichtodraw,whereasshewaslikeawheelwithoutatyre(shewasfondofsuchmetaphors),joltedbyeverypebble,soshewouldsaystayingonafterthelessonstandingbythefire-placewithherbagofbooks,her“satchel,”shecalledit,onaTuesdaymorning,afterthelessonwasover.Andshetalkedtooaboutthewar.Afterall,therewerepeoplewhodidnotthinktheEnglishinvariablyright.Therewerebooks.Thereweremeetings.Therewereotherpointsofview.WouldElizabethliketocomewithhertolistentoSo-and-so(amostextraordinarylookingoldman)?ThenMissKilmantookhertosomechurchinKensingtonandtheyhadteawithaclergyman.Shehadlentherbooks.Law,medicine,politics,allprofessionsareopentowomenofyourgeneration,saidMissKilman.Butforherself,hercareerwasabsolutelyruinedandwasitherfault?Goodgracious,saidElizabeth,no.