Миссис Дэллоуэй

           ItwasalwaystalkingaboutherownsufferingsthatmadeMissKilmansodifficult.Andwassheright?Ifitwasbeingoncommitteesandgivinguphoursandhourseveryday(shehardlyeversawhiminLondon)thathelpedthepoor,herfatherdidthat,goodnessknows—ifthatwaswhatMissKilmanmeantaboutbeingaChristian;butitwassodifficulttosay.Oh,shewouldliketogoalittlefurther.AnotherpennywasittotheStrand?Herewasanotherpennythen.ShewouldgouptheStrand.

           Shelikedpeoplewhowereill.Andeveryprofessionisopentothewomenofyourgeneration,saidMissKilman.Soshemightbeadoctor.Shemightbeafarmer.Animalsareoftenill.Shemightownathousandacresandhavepeopleunderher.Shewouldgoandseethemintheircottages.ThiswasSomersetHouse.Onemightbeaverygoodfarmer—andthat,strangelyenoughthoughMissKilmanhadhershareinit,wasalmostentirelyduetoSomersetHouse.Itlookedsosplendid,soserious,thatgreatgreybuilding.Andshelikedthefeelingofpeopleworking.Shelikedthosechurches,likeshapesofgreypaper,breastingthestreamoftheStrand.ItwasquitedifferentherefromWestminster,shethought,gettingoffatChanceryLane.Itwassoserious;itwassobusy.Inshort,shewouldliketohaveaprofession.Shewouldbecomeadoctor,afarmer,possiblygointoParliament,ifshefounditnecessary,allbecauseoftheStrand.