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           “Areyouhappy,Clarissa?DoesRichard—”

           Thedooropened.

           “HereismyElizabeth,”saidClarissa,emotionally,histrionically,perhaps.

           “Howd’ydo?”saidElizabethcomingforward.

           ThesoundofBigBenstrikingthehalf-hourstruckoutbetweenthemwithextraordinaryvigour,asifayoungman,strong,indifferent,inconsiderate,wereswingingdumb-bellsthiswayandthat.

           “Hullo,Elizabeth!”criedPeter,stuffinghishandkerchiefintohispocket,goingquicklytoher,saying“Good-bye,Clarissa”withoutlookingather,leavingtheroomquickly,andrunningdownstairsandopeningthehalldoor.

           “Peter!Peter!”criedClarissa,followinghimoutontothelanding.“Mypartyto-night!Remembermypartyto-night!”shecried,havingtoraisehervoiceagainsttheroaroftheopenair,and,overwhelmedbythetrafficandthesoundofalltheclocksstriking,hervoicecrying“Remembermypartyto-night!”soundedfrailandthinandveryfarawayasPeterWalshshutthedoor.

           Remembermyparty,remembermyparty,saidPeterWalshashesteppeddownthestreet,speakingtohimselfrhythmically,intimewiththeflowofthesound,thedirectdownrightsoundofBigBenstrikingthehalf-hour.(Theleadencirclesdissolvedintheair.)Ohtheseparties,hethought;Clarissa’sparties.Whydoesshegivetheseparties,hethought.