Місіс Деллоуей

           Thatwasherselfwhensomeeffort,somecallonhertobeherself,drewthepartstogether,shealoneknewhowdifferent,howincompatibleandcomposedsofortheworldonlyintoonecentre,onediamond,onewomanwhosatinherdrawing-roomandmadeameeting-point,aradiancynodoubtinsomedulllives,arefugeforthelonelytocometo,perhaps;shehadhelpedyoungpeople,whoweregratefultoher;hadtriedtobethesamealways,nevershowingasignofalltheothersidesofher—faults,jealousies,vanities,suspicions,likethisofLadyBrutonnotaskinghertolunch;which,shethought(combingherhairfinally),isutterlybase!Now,wherewasherdress?

           Hereveningdresseshunginthecupboard.Clarissa,plungingherhandintothesoftness,gentlydetachedthegreendressandcarriedittothewindow.Shehadtornit.Someonehadtrodontheskirt.ShehadfeltitgiveattheEmbassypartyatthetopamongthefolds.Byartificiallightthegreenshone,butlostitscolournowinthesun.Shewouldmendit.Hermaidshadtoomuchtodo.Shewouldwearitto-night.Shewouldtakehersilks,herscissors,her—whatwasit?—herthimble,ofcourse,downintothedrawing-room,forshemustalsowrite,andseethatthingsgenerallyweremoreorlessinorder.