Місіс Деллоуей
Awholelifetimewastooshorttobringout,nowthatonehadacquiredthepower,thefullflavour;toextracteveryounceofpleasure,everyshadeofmeaning;whichbothweresomuchmoresolidthantheyusedtobe,somuchlesspersonal.ItwasimpossiblethatheshouldeversufferagainasClarissahadmadehimsuffer.Forhoursatatime(prayGodthatonemightsaythesethingswithoutbeingoverheard!),forhoursanddaysheneverthoughtofDaisy.
Coulditbethathewasinlovewithherthen,rememberingthemisery,thetorture,theextraordinarypassionofthosedays?Itwasadifferentthingaltogether—amuchpleasanterthing—thetruthbeing,ofcourse,thatnowSHEwasinlovewithHIM.Andthatperhapswasthereasonwhy,whentheshipactuallysailed,hefeltanextraordinaryrelief,wantednothingsomuchastobealone;wasannoyedtofindallherlittleattentions—cigars,notes,arugforthevoyage—inhiscabin.Everyoneiftheywerehonestwouldsaythesame;onedoesn’twantpeopleafterfifty;onedoesn’twanttogoontellingwomentheyarepretty;that’swhatmostmenoffiftywouldsay,PeterWalshthought,iftheywerehonest.
Butthentheseastonishingaccessesofemotion—burstingintotearsthismorning,whatwasallthatabout?WhatcouldClarissahavethoughtofhim?thoughthimafoolpresumably,notforthefirsttime.
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