Миссис Дэллоуэй
ThemotorcarwithitsblindsdrawnandanairofinscrutablereserveproceededtowardsPiccadilly,stillgazedat,stillrufflingthefacesonbothsidesofthestreetwiththesamedarkbreathofvenerationwhetherforQueen,Prince,orPrimeMinisternobodyknew.Thefaceitselfhadbeenseenonlyoncebythreepeopleforafewseconds.Eventhesexwasnowindispute.Buttherecouldbenodoubtthatgreatnesswasseatedwithin;greatnesswaspassing,hidden,downBondStreet,removedonlybyahand’s-breadthfromordinarypeoplewhomightnow,forthefirstandlasttime,bewithinspeakingdistanceofthemajestyofEngland,oftheenduringsymbolofthestatewhichwillbeknowntocuriousantiquaries,siftingtheruinsoftime,whenLondonisagrass-grownpathandallthosehurryingalongthepavementthisWednesdaymorningarebutboneswithafewweddingringsmixedupintheirdustandthegoldstoppingsofinnumerabledecayedteeth.Thefaceinthemotorcarwillthenbeknown.
ItisprobablytheQueen,thoughtMrs.Dalloway,comingoutofMulberry’swithherflowers;theQueen.Andforasecondsheworealookofextremedignitystandingbytheflowershopinthesunlightwhilethecarpassedatafoot’space,withitsblindsdrawn.TheQueengoingtosomehospital;theQueenopeningsomebazaar,thoughtClarissa.
Thecrushwasterrificforthetimeofday.Lords,Ascot,Hurlingham,whatwasit?shewondered,forthestreetwasblocked.
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