Миссис Дэллоуэй

           Forshewasonlynineteenandhadgotherwayatlast,tocometoLondon;andnowhowqueeritwas,thiscoupleshehadaskedthewayof,andthegirlstartedandjerkedherhand,andtheman—heseemedawfullyodd;quarrelling,perhaps;partingforever,perhaps;somethingwasup,sheknew;andnowallthesepeople(forshereturnedtotheBroadWalk),thestonebasins,theprimflowers,theoldmenandwomen,invalidsmostoftheminBathchairs—allseemed,afterEdinburgh,soqueer.AndMaisieJohnson,asshejoinedthatgentlytrudging,vaguelygazing,breeze-kissedcompany—squirrelsperchingandpreening,sparrowfountainsflutteringforcrumbs,dogsbusywiththerailings,busywitheachother,whilethesoftwarmairwashedoverthemandlenttothefixedunsurprisedgazewithwhichtheyreceivedlifesomethingwhimsicalandmollified—MaisieJohnsonpositivelyfeltshemustcryOh!(forthatyoungmanontheseathadgivenherquiteaturn.Somethingwasup,sheknew.)

           Horror!horror!shewantedtocry.(Shehadleftherpeople;theyhadwarnedherwhatwouldhappen.)

           Whyhadn’tshestayedathome?shecried,twistingtheknoboftheironrailing.

           Thatgirl,thoughtMrs.Dempster(whosavedcrustsforthesquirrelsandoftenateherlunchinRegent’sPark),don’tknowathingyet;andreallyitseemedtoherbettertobealittlestout,alittleslack,alittlemoderateinone’sexpectations.Percydrank.Well,bettertohaveason,thoughtMrs.Dempster.