Миссис Дэллоуэй

           And,walkingdowntheroomwithhim,withSallythereandPeterthereandRichardverypleased,withallthosepeopleratherinclined,perhaps,toenvy,shehadfeltthatintoxicationofthemoment,thatdilatationofthenervesoftheheartitselftillitseemedtoquiver,steeped,upright;—yes,butafterallitwaswhatotherpeoplefelt,that;for,thoughsheloveditandfeltittingleandsting,stillthesesemblances,thesetriumphs(dearoldPeter,forexample,thinkinghersobrilliant),hadahollowness;atarm’slengththeywere,notintheheart;anditmightbethatshewasgrowingoldbuttheysatisfiedhernolongerastheyused;andsuddenly,asshesawthePrimeMinistergodownthestairs,thegiltrimoftheSirJoshuapictureofthelittlegirlwithamuffbroughtbackKilmanwitharush;Kilmanherenemy.Thatwassatisfying;thatwasreal.Ah,howshehatedher—hot,hypocritical,corrupt;withallthatpower;Elizabeth’sseducer;thewomanwhohadcreptintostealanddefile(Richardwouldsay,Whatnonsense!).Shehatedher:shelovedher.Itwasenemiesonewanted,notfriends—notMrs.DurrantandClara,SirWilliamandLadyBradshaw,MissTruelockandEleanorGibson(whomshesawcomingupstairs).Theymustfindheriftheywantedher.Shewasfortheparty!

           TherewasheroldfriendSirHarry.

           “DearSirHarry!”shesaid,goinguptothefineoldfellowwhohadproducedmorebadpicturesthananyothertwoAcademiciansinthewholeofSt.