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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 36/96
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He
had
married
this
lady
,
the
Honourable
Evelyn
,
and
they
lived
hereabouts
,
so
he
thought
(
looking
at
the
pompous
houses
overlooking
the
Park
)
,
for
he
had
lunched
there
once
in
a
house
which
had
,
like
all
Hugh
's
possessions
,
something
that
no
other
house
could
possibly
have
--
linen
cupboards
it
might
have
been
.
You
had
to
go
and
look
at
them
--
you
had
to
spend
a
great
deal
of
time
always
admiring
whatever
it
was
--
linen
cupboards
,
pillow-cases
,
old
oak
furniture
,
pictures
,
which
Hugh
had
picked
up
for
an
old
song
.
But
Mrs.
Hugh
sometimes
gave
the
show
away
.
She
was
one
of
those
obscure
mouse-like
little
women
who
admire
big
men
.
She
was
almost
negligible
.
Then
suddenly
she
would
say
something
quite
unexpected
--
something
sharp
.
She
had
the
relics
of
the
grand
manner
perhaps
.
The
steam
coal
was
a
little
too
strong
for
her
--
it
made
the
atmosphere
thick
.
And
so
there
they
lived
,
with
their
linen
cupboards
and
their
old
masters
and
their
pillow-cases
fringed
with
real
lace
at
the
rate
of
five
or
ten
thousand
a
year
presumably
,
while
he
,
who
was
two
years
older
than
Hugh
,
cadged
for
a
job
.
At
fifty-three
he
had
to
come
and
ask
them
to
put
him
into
some
secretary
's
office
,
to
find
him
some
usher
's
job
teaching
little
boys
Latin
,
at
the
beck
and
call
of
some
mandarin
in
an
office
,
something
that
brought
in
five
hundred
a
year
;
for
if
he
married
Daisy
,
even
with
his
pension
,
they
could
never
do
on
less
.
Whitbread
could
do
it
presumably
;
or
Dalloway
.
He
did
n't
mind
what
he
asked
Dalloway
.
He
was
a
thorough
good
sort
;
a
bit
limited
;
a
bit
thick
in
the
head
;
yes
;
but
a
thorough
good
sort
.
Whatever
he
took
up
he
did
in
the
same
matter-of-fact
sensible
way
;
without
a
touch
of
imagination
,
without
a
spark
of
brilliancy
,
but
with
the
inexplicable
niceness
of
his
type
.
He
ought
to
have
been
a
country
gentleman
--
he
was
wasted
on
politics
.
He
was
at
his
best
out
of
doors
,
with
horses
and
dogs
--
how
good
he
was
,
for
instance
,
when
that
great
shaggy
dog
of
Clarissa
's
got
caught
in
a
trap
and
had
its
paw
half
torn
off
,
and
Clarissa
turned
faint
and
Dalloway
did
the
whole
thing
;
bandaged
,
made
splints
;
told
Clarissa
not
to
be
a
fool
.
That
was
what
she
liked
him
for
perhaps
--
that
was
what
she
needed
.
"
Now
,
my
dear
,
do
n't
be
a
fool
.
Hold
this
--
fetch
that
,
"
all
the
time
talking
to
the
dog
as
if
it
were
a
human
being
.
But
how
could
she
swallow
all
that
stuff
about
poetry
?
How
could
she
let
him
hold
forth
about
Shakespeare
?
Seriously
and
solemnly
Richard
Dalloway
got
on
his
hind
legs
and
said
that
no
decent
man
ought
to
read
Shakespeare
's
sonnets
because
it
was
like
listening
at
keyholes
(
besides
the
relationship
was
not
one
that
he
approved
)
.
No
decent
man
ought
to
let
his
wife
visit
a
deceased
wife
's
sister
.
Incredible
!
The
only
thing
to
do
was
to
pelt
him
with
sugared
almonds
--
it
was
at
dinner
.
But
Clarissa
sucked
it
all
in
;
thought
it
so
honest
of
him
;
so
independent
of
him
;
Heaven
knows
if
she
did
n't
think
him
the
most
original
mind
she
'd
ever
met
!
That
was
one
of
the
bonds
between
Sally
and
himself
.
There
was
a
garden
where
they
used
to
walk
,
a
walled-in
place
,
with
rose-bushes
and
giant
cauliflowers
--
he
could
remember
Sally
tearing
off
a
rose
,
stopping
to
exclaim
at
the
beauty
of
the
cabbage
leaves
in
the
moonlight
(
it
was
extraordinary
how
vividly
it
all
came
back
to
him
,
things
he
had
n't
thought
of
for
years
,
)
while
she
implored
him
,
half
laughing
of
course
,
to
carry
off
Clarissa
,
to
save
her
from
the
Hughs
and
the
Dalloways
and
all
the
other
"
perfect
gentlemen
"
who
would
"
stifle
her
soul
"
(
she
wrote
reams
of
poetry
in
those
days
)
,
make
a
mere
hostess
of
her
,
encourage
her
worldliness
.
But
one
must
do
Clarissa
justice
.
She
was
n't
going
to
marry
Hugh
anyhow
.
She
had
a
perfectly
clear
notion
of
what
she
wanted
.
Her
emotions
were
all
on
the
surface
.
Beneath
,
she
was
very
shrewd
--
a
far
better
judge
of
character
than
Sally
,
for
instance
,
and
with
it
all
,
purely
feminine
;
with
that
extraordinary
gift
,
that
woman
's
gift
,
of
making
a
world
of
her
own
wherever
she
happened
to
be
.
She
came
into
a
room
;
she
stood
,
as
he
had
often
seen
her
,
in
a
doorway
with
lots
of
people
round
her
.
But
it
was
Clarissa
one
remembered
.
Not
that
she
was
striking
;
not
beautiful
at
all
;
there
was
nothing
picturesque
about
her
;
she
never
said
anything
specially
clever
;
there
she
was
,
however
;
there
she
was
.
No
,
no
,
no
!
He
was
not
in
love
with
her
any
more
!
He
only
felt
,
after
seeing
her
that
morning
,
among
her
scissors
and
silks
,
making
ready
for
the
party
,
unable
to
get
away
from
the
thought
of
her
;
she
kept
coming
back
and
back
like
a
sleeper
jolting
against
him
in
a
railway
carriage
;
which
was
not
being
in
love
,
of
course
;
it
was
thinking
of
her
,
criticising
her
,
starting
again
,
after
thirty
years
,
trying
to
explain
her
.
The
obvious
thing
to
say
of
her
was
that
she
was
worldly
;
cared
too
much
for
rank
and
society
and
getting
on
in
the
world
--
which
was
true
in
a
sense
;
she
had
admitted
it
to
him
.
(
You
could
always
get
her
to
own
up
if
you
took
the
trouble
;
she
was
honest
.
)
What
she
would
say
was
that
she
hated
frumps
,
fogies
,
failures
,
like
himself
presumably
;
thought
people
had
no
right
to
slouch
about
with
their
hands
in
their
pockets
;
must
do
something
,
be
something
;
and
these
great
swells
,
these
Duchesses
,
these
hoary
old
Countesses
one
met
in
her
drawing-room
,
unspeakably
remote
as
he
felt
them
to
be
from
anything
that
mattered
a
straw
,
stood
for
something
real
to
her
.
Lady
Bexborough
,
she
said
once
,
held
herself
upright
(
so
did
Clarissa
herself
;
she
never
lounged
in
any
sense
of
the
word
;
she
was
straight
as
a
dart
,
a
little
rigid
in
fact
)
.
She
said
they
had
a
kind
of
courage
which
the
older
she
grew
the
more
she
respected
.
In
all
this
there
was
a
great
deal
of
Dalloway
,
of
course
;
a
great
deal
of
the
public-spirited
,
British
Empire
,
tariff-reform
,
governing-class
spirit
,
which
had
grown
on
her
,
as
it
tends
to
do
.
With
twice
his
wits
,
she
had
to
see
things
through
his
eyes
--
one
of
the
tragedies
of
married
life
.
With
a
mind
of
her
own
,
she
must
always
be
quoting
Richard
--
as
if
one
could
n't
know
to
a
tittle
what
Richard
thought
by
reading
the
Morning
Post
of
a
morning
!
These
parties
for
example
were
all
for
him
,
or
for
her
idea
of
him
(
to
do
Richard
justice
he
would
have
been
happier
farming
in
Norfolk
)
.
She
made
her
drawing-room
a
sort
of
meeting-place
;
she
had
a
genius
for
it
.
Over
and
over
again
he
had
seen
her
take
some
raw
youth
,
twist
him
,
turn
him
,
wake
him
up
;
set
him
going
.
Infinite
numbers
of
dull
people
conglomerated
round
her
of
course
.
But
odd
unexpected
people
turned
up
;
an
artist
sometimes
;
sometimes
a
writer
;
queer
fish
in
that
atmosphere
.
And
behind
it
all
was
that
network
of
visiting
,
leaving
cards
,
being
kind
to
people
;
running
about
with
bunches
of
flowers
,
little
presents
;
So-and-so
was
going
to
France
--
must
have
an
air-cushion
;
a
real
drain
on
her
strength
;
all
that
interminable
traffic
that
women
of
her
sort
keep
up
;
but
she
did
it
genuinely
,
from
a
natural
instinct
.
Oddly
enough
,
she
was
one
of
the
most
thoroughgoing
sceptics
he
had
ever
met
,
and
possibly
(
this
was
a
theory
he
used
to
make
up
to
account
for
her
,
so
transparent
in
some
ways
,
so
inscrutable
in
others
)
,
possibly
she
said
to
herself
,
As
we
are
a
doomed
race
,
chained
to
a
sinking
ship
(
her
favourite
reading
as
a
girl
was
Huxley
and
Tyndall
,
and
they
were
fond
of
these
nautical
metaphors
)
,
as
the
whole
thing
is
a
bad
joke
,
let
us
,
at
any
rate
,
do
our
part
;
mitigate
the
sufferings
of
our
fellow-prisoners
(
Huxley
again
)
;
decorate
the
dungeon
with
flowers
and
air-cushions
;
be
as
decent
as
we
possibly
can
.
Those
ruffians
,
the
Gods
,
sha
n't
have
it
all
their
own
way
--
her
notion
being
that
the
Gods
,
who
never
lost
a
chance
of
hurting
,
thwarting
and
spoiling
human
lives
were
seriously
put
out
if
,
all
the
same
,
you
behaved
like
a
lady
.
That
phase
came
directly
after
Sylvia
's
death
--
that
horrible
affair
.
To
see
your
own
sister
killed
by
a
falling
tree
(
all
Justin
Parry
's
fault
--
all
his
carelessness
)
before
your
very
eyes
,
a
girl
too
on
the
verge
of
life
,
the
most
gifted
of
them
,
Clarissa
always
said
,
was
enough
to
turn
one
bitter
.
Later
she
was
n't
so
positive
perhaps
;
she
thought
there
were
no
Gods
;
no
one
was
to
blame
;
and
so
she
evolved
this
atheist
's
religion
of
doing
good
for
the
sake
of
goodness
.
