Місіс Деллоуей

           Laughinganddelightful,shehadcrossedOxfordStreetandGreatPortlandStreetandturneddownoneofthelittlestreets,andnow,andnow,thegreatmomentwasapproaching,fornowsheslackened,openedherbag,andwithonelookinhisdirection,butnotathim,onelookthatbadefarewell,summedupthewholesituationanddismissedittriumphantly,forever,hadfittedherkey,openedthedoor,andgone!Clarissa’svoicesaying,Remembermyparty,Remembermyparty,sanginhisears.Thehousewasoneofthoseflatredhouseswithhangingflower-basketsofvagueimpropriety.Itwasover.

           Well,I’vehadmyfun;I’vehadit,hethought,lookingupattheswingingbasketsofpalegeraniums.Anditwassmashedtoatoms—hisfun,foritwashalfmadeup,asheknewverywell;invented,thisescapadewiththegirl;madeup,asonemakesupthebetterpartoflife,hethought—makingoneselfup;makingherup;creatinganexquisiteamusement,andsomethingmore.Butodditwas,andquitetrue;allthisonecouldnevershare—itsmashedtoatoms.

           Heturned;wentupthestreet,thinkingtofindsomewheretosit,tillitwastimeforLincoln’sInn—forMessrs.HooperandGrateley.Whereshouldhego?Nomatter.Upthestreet,then,towardsRegent’sPark.Hisbootsonthepavementstruckout“nomatter”;foritwasearly,stillveryearly.

           Itwasasplendidmorningtoo.Likethepulseofaperfectheart,lifestruckstraightthroughthestreets.