Місіс Деллоуей

           Itwasthegirlsshethoughtof,theyounggirlswiththeirbareshoulders,sheherselfhavingalwaysbeenawispofacreature,withherthinhairandmeagreprofile;thoughnow,pastfifty,therewasbeginningtoshinethroughsomemildbeam,somethingpurifiedintodistinctionbyyearsofself-abnegationbutobscuredagain,perpetually,byherdistressinggentility,herpanicfear,whicharosefromthreehundredpounds’income,andherweaponlessstate(shecouldnotearnapenny)anditmadehertimid,andmoreandmoredisqualifiedyearbyyeartomeetwell-dressedpeoplewhodidthissortofthingeverynightoftheseason,merelytellingtheirmaids“I’llwearsoandso,”whereasEllieHendersonranoutnervouslyandboughtcheappinkflowers,halfadozen,andthenthrewashawloverheroldblackdress.ForherinvitationtoClarissa’spartyhadcomeatthelastmoment.Shewasnotquitehappyaboutit.ShehadasortoffeelingthatClarissahadnotmeanttoaskherthisyear.

           Whyshouldshe?Therewasnoreasonreally,exceptthattheyhadalwaysknowneachother.Indeed,theywerecousins.Butnaturallytheyhadratherdriftedapart,Clarissabeingsosoughtafter.Itwasaneventtoher,goingtoaparty.Itwasquiteatreatjusttoseethelovelyclothes.Wasn’tthatElizabeth,grownup,withherhairdoneinthefashionableway,inthepinkdress?Yetshecouldnotbemorethanseventeen.Shewasvery,veryhandsome.Butgirlswhentheyfirstcameoutdidn’tseemtowearwhiteastheyused.