Миссис Дэллоуэй

           Therewasasortof—howcouldheputit?—asortofeaseinhermannertohim;somethingmaternal;somethinggentle.Theyweretalkingaboutpolitics.Allthroughdinnerhetriedtohearwhattheyweresaying.

           AfterwardshecouldrememberstandingbyoldMissParry’schairinthedrawing-room.Clarissacameup,withherperfectmanners,likearealhostess,andwantedtointroducehimtosomeone—spokeasiftheyhadnevermetbefore,whichenragedhim.Yeteventhenheadmiredherforit.Headmiredhercourage;hersocialinstinct;headmiredherpowerofcarryingthingsthrough.“Theperfecthostess,”hesaidtoher,whereuponshewincedallover.Buthemeanthertofeelit.HewouldhavedoneanythingtohurtherafterseeingherwithDalloway.Soshelefthim.Andhehadafeelingthattheywereallgatheredtogetherinaconspiracyagainsthim—laughingandtalking—behindhisback.TherehestoodbyMissParry’schairasthoughhehadbeencutoutofwood,hetalkingaboutwildflowers.Never,neverhadhesufferedsoinfernally!Hemusthaveforgotteneventopretendtolisten;atlasthewokeup;hesawMissParrylookingratherdisturbed,ratherindignant,withherprominenteyesfixed.Healmostcriedoutthathecouldn’tattendbecausehewasinHell!Peoplebegangoingoutoftheroom.Heheardthemtalkingaboutfetchingcloaks;aboutitsbeingcoldonthewater,andsoon.Theyweregoingboatingonthelakebymoonlight—oneofSally’smadideas.Hecouldhearherdescribingthemoon.