Місіс Деллоуей

           Shewouldgoback.

           Shewasclosetohimnow,couldseehimstaringatthesky,muttering,claspinghishands.YetDr.Holmessaidtherewasnothingthematterwithhim.Whatthenhadhappened—whyhadhegone,then,why,whenshesatbyhim,didhestart,frownather,moveaway,andpointatherhand,takeherhand,lookatitterrified?

           Wasitthatshehadtakenoffherweddingring?“Myhandhasgrownsothin,”shesaid.“Ihaveputitinmypurse,”shetoldhim.

           Hedroppedherhand.Theirmarriagewasover,hethought,withagony,withrelief.Theropewascut;hemounted;hewasfree,asitwasdecreedthathe,Septimus,thelordofmen,shouldbefree;alone(sincehiswifehadthrownawayherweddingring;sinceshehadlefthim),he,Septimus,wasalone,calledforthinadvanceofthemassofmentohearthetruth,tolearnthemeaning,whichnowatlast,afterallthetoilsofcivilisation—Greeks,Romans,Shakespeare,Darwin,andnowhimself—wastobegivenwholeto....“Towhom?”heaskedaloud.“TothePrimeMinister,”thevoiceswhichrustledabovehisheadreplied.ThesupremesecretmustbetoldtotheCabinet;firstthattreesarealive;nextthereisnocrime;nextlove,universallove,hemuttered,gasping,trembling,painfullydrawingouttheseprofoundtruthswhichneeded,sodeepwerethey,sodifficult,animmenseefforttospeakout,buttheworldwasentirelychangedbythemforever.