Миссис Дэллоуэй

           Andhewouldhaveachatwithwhoeveritmightbe,andsocometodisregardmoreandmoreprecisehoursforlunch,andmissengagements,andwhenDaisyaskedhim,asshewould,forakiss,ascene,failtocomeuptothescratch(thoughhewasgenuinelydevotedtoher)—inshortitmightbehappier,asMrs.Burgesssaid,thatsheshouldforgethim,ormerelyrememberhimashewasinAugust1922,likeafigurestandingatthecrossroadsatdusk,whichgrowsmoreandmoreremoteasthedog-cartspinsaway,carryinghersecurelyfastenedtothebackseat,thoughherarmsareoutstretched,andassheseesthefiguredwindleanddisappearstillshecriesouthowshewoulddoanythingintheworld,anything,anything,anything....

           Heneverknewwhatpeoplethought.Itbecamemoreandmoredifficultforhimtoconcentrate.Hebecameabsorbed;hebecamebusiedwithhisownconcerns;nowsurly,nowgay;dependentonwomen,absent-minded,moody,lessandlessable(sohethoughtasheshaved)tounderstandwhyClarissacouldn’tsimplyfindthemalodgingandbenicetoDaisy;introduceher.Andthenhecouldjust—justdowhat?justhauntandhover(hewasatthemomentactuallyengagedinsortingoutvariouskeys,papers),swoopandtaste,bealone,inshort,sufficienttohimself;andyetnobodyofcoursewasmoredependentuponothers(hebuttonedhiswaistcoat);ithadbeenhisundoing.