Миссис Дэллоуэй

           AndhermotherwouldcomecallingtosaythatahamperhadcomefromBourtonandwouldMissKilmanlikesomeflowers?ToMissKilmanshewasalwaysvery,verynice,butMissKilmansquashedtheflowersallinabunch,andhadn’tanysmalltalk,andwhatinterestedMissKilmanboredhermother,andMissKilmanandshewereterribletogether;andMissKilmanswelledandlookedveryplain.ButthenMissKilmanwasfrightfullyclever.Elizabethhadneverthoughtaboutthepoor.Theylivedwitheverythingtheywanted—hermotherhadbreakfastinbedeveryday;Lucycarrieditup;andshelikedoldwomenbecausetheywereDuchesses,andbeingdescendedfromsomeLord.ButMissKilmansaid(oneofthoseTuesdaymorningswhenthelessonwasover),“MygrandfatherkeptanoilandcolourshopinKensington.”MissKilmanmadeonefeelsosmall.

           MissKilmantookanothercupoftea.Elizabeth,withherorientalbearing,herinscrutablemystery,satperfectlyupright;no,shedidnotwantanythingmore.Shelookedforhergloves—herwhitegloves.Theywereunderthetable.Ah,butshemustnotgo!MissKilmancouldnotlethergo!thisyouth,thatwassobeautiful,thisgirl,whomshegenuinelyloved!Herlargehandopenedandshutonthetable.

           Butperhapsitwasalittleflatsomehow,Elizabethfelt.Andreallyshewouldliketogo.

           ButsaidMissKilman,“I’venotquitefinishedyet.”

           Ofcourse,then,Elizabethwouldwait.Butitwasratherstuffyinhere.