Місіс Деллоуей

           Partlyforthatreason,itssecrecy,completeandinviolable,hehadfoundlifelikeanunknowngarden,fullofturnsandcorners,surprising,yes;reallyittookone’sbreathaway,thesemoments;therecomingtohimbythepillar-boxoppositetheBritishMuseumoneofthem,amoment,inwhichthingscametogether;thisambulance;andlifeanddeath.Itwasasifheweresuckeduptosomeveryhighroofbythatrushofemotionandtherestofhim,likeawhiteshell-sprinkledbeach,leftbare.IthadbeenhisundoinginAnglo-Indiansociety—thissusceptibility.

           Clarissaonce,goingontopofanomnibuswithhimsomewhere,Clarissasuperficiallyatleast,soeasilymoved,nowindespair,nowinthebestofspirits,allaquiverinthosedaysandsuchgoodcompany,spottingqueerlittlescenes,names,peoplefromthetopofabus,fortheyusedtoexploreLondonandbringbackbagsfulloftreasuresfromtheCaledonianmarket—Clarissahadatheoryinthosedays—theyhadheapsoftheories,alwaystheories,asyoungpeoplehave.Itwastoexplainthefeelingtheyhadofdissatisfaction;notknowingpeople;notbeingknown.Forhowcouldtheyknoweachother?Youmeteveryday;thennotforsixmonths,oryears.Itwasunsatisfactory,theyagreed,howlittleoneknewpeople.Butshesaid,sittingonthebusgoingupShaftesburyAvenue,shefeltherselfeverywhere;not“here,here,here”;andshetappedthebackoftheseat;buteverywhere.Shewavedherhand,goingupShaftesburyAvenue.Shewasallthat.