Місіс Деллоуей

           Becauseitisathousandpitiesnevertosaywhatonefeels,hethought,crossingtheGreenParkandobservingwithpleasurehowintheshadeofthetreeswholefamilies,poorfamilies,weresprawling;childrenkickinguptheirlegs;suckingmilk;paperbagsthrownabout,whichcouldeasilybepickedup(ifpeopleobjected)byoneofthosefatgentlemeninlivery;forhewasofopinionthateverypark,andeverysquare,duringthesummermonthsshouldbeopentochildren(thegrassoftheparkflushedandfaded,lightingupthepoormothersofWestminsterandtheircrawlingbabies,asifayellowlampweremovedbeneath).Butwhatcouldbedoneforfemalevagrantslikethatpoorcreature,stretchedonherelbow(asifshehadflungherselfontheearth,ridofallties,toobservecuriously,tospeculateboldly,toconsiderthewhysandthewherefores,impudent,loose-lipped,humorous),hedidnotknow.Bearinghisflowerslikeaweapon,RichardDallowayapproachedher;intenthepassedher;stilltherewastimeforasparkbetweenthem—shelaughedatthesightofhim,hesmiledgood-humouredly,consideringtheproblemofthefemalevagrant;notthattheywouldeverspeak.ButhewouldtellClarissathathelovedher,insomanywords.Hehad,onceuponatime,beenjealousofPeterWalsh;jealousofhimandClarissa.ButshehadoftensaidtohimthatshehadbeenrightnottomarryPeterWalsh;which,knowingClarissa,wasobviouslytrue;shewantedsupport.Notthatshewasweak;butshewantedsupport.