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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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"
I
love
walking
in
London
,
"
said
Mrs.
Dalloway
.
"
Really
it
's
better
than
walking
in
the
country
.
"
They
had
just
come
up
--
unfortunately
--
to
see
doctors
.
Other
people
came
to
see
pictures
;
go
to
the
opera
;
take
their
daughters
out
;
the
Whitbreads
came
"
to
see
doctors
.
"
Times
without
number
Clarissa
had
visited
Evelyn
Whitbread
in
a
nursing
home
.
Was
Evelyn
ill
again
?
Evelyn
was
a
good
deal
out
of
sorts
,
said
Hugh
,
intimating
by
a
kind
of
pout
or
swell
of
his
very
well-covered
,
manly
,
extremely
handsome
,
perfectly
upholstered
body
(
he
was
almost
too
well
dressed
always
,
but
presumably
had
to
be
,
with
his
little
job
at
Court
)
that
his
wife
had
some
internal
ailment
,
nothing
serious
,
which
,
as
an
old
friend
,
Clarissa
Dalloway
would
quite
understand
without
requiring
him
to
specify
.
Ah
yes
,
she
did
of
course
;
what
a
nuisance
;
and
felt
very
sisterly
and
oddly
conscious
at
the
same
time
of
her
hat
.
Not
the
right
hat
for
the
early
morning
,
was
that
it
?
For
Hugh
always
made
her
feel
,
as
he
bustled
on
,
raising
his
hat
rather
extravagantly
and
assuring
her
that
she
might
be
a
girl
of
eighteen
,
and
of
course
he
was
coming
to
her
party
to-night
,
Evelyn
absolutely
insisted
,
only
a
little
late
he
might
be
after
the
party
at
the
Palace
to
which
he
had
to
take
one
of
Jim
's
boys
--
she
always
felt
a
little
skimpy
beside
Hugh
;
schoolgirlish
;
but
attached
to
him
,
partly
from
having
known
him
always
,
but
she
did
think
him
a
good
sort
in
his
own
way
,
though
Richard
was
nearly
driven
mad
by
him
,
and
as
for
Peter
Walsh
,
he
had
never
to
this
day
forgiven
her
for
liking
him
.
She
could
remember
scene
after
scene
at
Bourton
--
Peter
furious
;
Hugh
not
,
of
course
,
his
match
in
any
way
,
but
still
not
a
positive
imbecile
as
Peter
made
out
;
not
a
mere
barber
's
block
.
When
his
old
mother
wanted
him
to
give
up
shooting
or
to
take
her
to
Bath
he
did
it
,
without
a
word
;
he
was
really
unselfish
,
and
as
for
saying
,
as
Peter
did
,
that
he
had
no
heart
,
no
brain
,
nothing
but
the
manners
and
breeding
of
an
English
gentleman
,
that
was
only
her
dear
Peter
at
his
worst
;
and
he
could
be
intolerable
;
he
could
be
impossible
;
but
adorable
to
walk
with
on
a
morning
like
this
.
(
June
had
drawn
out
every
leaf
on
the
trees
.
The
mothers
of
Pimlico
gave
suck
to
their
young
.
Messages
were
passing
from
the
Fleet
to
the
Admiralty
.
Arlington
Street
and
Piccadilly
seemed
to
chafe
the
very
air
in
the
Park
and
lift
its
leaves
hotly
,
brilliantly
,
on
waves
of
that
divine
vitality
which
Clarissa
loved
.
To
dance
,
to
ride
,
she
had
adored
all
that
.
)
For
they
might
be
parted
for
hundreds
of
years
,
she
and
Peter
;
she
never
wrote
a
letter
and
his
were
dry
sticks
;
but
suddenly
it
would
come
over
her
,
If
he
were
with
me
now
what
would
he
say
?
--
some
days
,
some
sights
bringing
him
back
to
her
calmly
,
without
the
old
bitterness
;
which
perhaps
was
the
reward
of
having
cared
for
people
;
they
came
back
in
the
middle
of
St.
James
's
Park
on
a
fine
morning
--
indeed
they
did
.
But
Peter
--
however
beautiful
the
day
might
be
,
and
the
trees
and
the
grass
,
and
the
little
girl
in
pink
--
Peter
never
saw
a
thing
of
all
that
.
He
would
put
on
his
spectacles
,
if
she
told
him
to
;
he
would
look
.
It
was
the
state
of
the
world
that
interested
him
;
Wagner
,
Pope
's
poetry
,
people
's
characters
eternally
,
and
the
defects
of
her
own
soul
.
How
he
scolded
her
!
How
they
argued
!
She
would
marry
a
Prime
Minister
and
stand
at
the
top
of
a
staircase
;
the
perfect
hostess
he
called
her
(
she
had
cried
over
it
in
her
bedroom
)
,
she
had
the
makings
of
the
perfect
hostess
,
he
said
.
So
she
would
still
find
herself
arguing
in
St.
James
's
Park
,
still
making
out
that
she
had
been
right
--
and
she
had
too
--
not
to
marry
him
.
For
in
marriage
a
little
licence
,
a
little
independence
there
must
be
between
people
living
together
day
in
day
out
in
the
same
house
;
which
Richard
gave
her
,
and
she
him
.
(
Where
was
he
this
morning
for
instance
?
Some
committee
,
she
never
asked
what
.
)
But
with
Peter
everything
had
to
be
shared
;
everything
gone
into
.
And
it
was
intolerable
,
and
when
it
came
to
that
scene
in
the
little
garden
by
the
fountain
,
she
had
to
break
with
him
or
they
would
have
been
destroyed
,
both
of
them
ruined
,
she
was
convinced
;
though
she
had
borne
about
with
her
for
years
like
an
arrow
sticking
in
her
heart
the
grief
,
the
anguish
;
and
then
the
horror
of
the
moment
when
some
one
told
her
at
a
concert
that
he
had
married
a
woman
met
on
the
boat
going
to
India
!
Never
should
she
forget
all
that
!
Cold
,
heartless
,
a
prude
,
he
called
her
.
Never
could
she
understand
how
he
cared
.
But
those
Indian
women
did
presumably
--
silly
,
pretty
,
flimsy
nincompoops
.
And
she
wasted
her
pity
.
For
he
was
quite
happy
,
he
assured
her
--
perfectly
happy
,
though
he
had
never
done
a
thing
that
they
talked
of
;
his
whole
life
had
been
a
failure
.
It
made
her
angry
still
.
She
had
reached
the
Park
gates
.
She
stood
for
a
moment
,
looking
at
the
omnibuses
in
Piccadilly
.
