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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 63/96
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Sometimes
lately
it
had
seemed
to
her
that
,
except
for
Elizabeth
,
her
food
was
all
that
she
lived
for
;
her
comforts
;
her
dinner
,
her
tea
;
her
hot-water
bottle
at
night
.
But
one
must
fight
;
vanquish
;
have
faith
in
God
.
Mr.
Whittaker
had
said
she
was
there
for
a
purpose
.
But
no
one
knew
the
agony
!
He
said
,
pointing
to
the
crucifix
,
that
God
knew
.
But
why
should
she
have
to
suffer
when
other
women
,
like
Clarissa
Dalloway
,
escaped
?
Knowledge
comes
through
suffering
,
said
Mr.
Whittaker
.
She
had
passed
the
pillar-box
,
and
Elizabeth
had
turned
into
the
cool
brown
tobacco
department
of
the
Army
and
Navy
Stores
while
she
was
still
muttering
to
herself
what
Mr.
Whittaker
had
said
about
knowledge
coming
through
suffering
and
the
flesh
.
"
The
flesh
,
"
she
muttered
.
What
department
did
she
want
?
Elizabeth
interrupted
her
.
"
Petticoats
,
"
she
said
abruptly
,
and
stalked
straight
on
to
the
lift
.
Up
they
went
.
Elizabeth
guided
her
this
way
and
that
;
guided
her
in
her
abstraction
as
if
she
had
been
a
great
child
,
an
unwieldy
battleship
.
There
were
the
petticoats
,
brown
,
decorous
,
striped
,
frivolous
,
solid
,
flimsy
;
and
she
chose
,
in
her
abstraction
,
portentously
,
and
the
girl
serving
thought
her
mad
.
Elizabeth
rather
wondered
,
as
they
did
up
the
parcel
,
what
Miss
Kilman
was
thinking
.
They
must
have
their
tea
,
said
Miss
Kilman
,
rousing
,
collecting
herself
.
They
had
their
tea
.
Elizabeth
rather
wondered
whether
Miss
Kilman
could
be
hungry
.
It
was
her
way
of
eating
,
eating
with
intensity
,
then
looking
,
again
and
again
,
at
a
plate
of
sugared
cakes
on
the
table
next
them
;
then
,
when
a
lady
and
a
child
sat
down
and
the
child
took
the
cake
,
could
Miss
Kilman
really
mind
it
?
Yes
,
Miss
Kilman
did
mind
it
.
She
had
wanted
that
cake
--
the
pink
one
.
The
pleasure
of
eating
was
almost
the
only
pure
pleasure
left
her
,
and
then
to
be
baffled
even
in
that
!
When
people
are
happy
,
they
have
a
reserve
,
she
had
told
Elizabeth
,
upon
which
to
draw
,
whereas
she
was
like
a
wheel
without
a
tyre
(
she
was
fond
of
such
metaphors
)
,
jolted
by
every
pebble
,
so
she
would
say
staying
on
after
the
lesson
standing
by
the
fire-place
with
her
bag
of
books
,
her
"
satchel
,
"
she
called
it
,
on
a
Tuesday
morning
,
after
the
lesson
was
over
.
And
she
talked
too
about
the
war
.
After
all
,
there
were
people
who
did
not
think
the
English
invariably
right
.
There
were
books
.
There
were
meetings
.
There
were
other
points
of
view
.
Would
Elizabeth
like
to
come
with
her
to
listen
to
So-and-so
(
a
most
extraordinary
looking
old
man
)
?
Then
Miss
Kilman
took
her
to
some
church
in
Kensington
and
they
had
tea
with
a
clergyman
.
She
had
lent
her
books
.
Law
,
medicine
,
politics
,
all
professions
are
open
to
women
of
your
generation
,
said
Miss
Kilman
.
But
for
herself
,
her
career
was
absolutely
ruined
and
was
it
her
fault
?
Good
gracious
,
said
Elizabeth
,
no
.
And
her
mother
would
come
calling
to
say
that
a
hamper
had
come
from
Bourton
and
would
Miss
Kilman
like
some
flowers
?
To
Miss
Kilman
she
was
always
very
,
very
nice
,
but
Miss
Kilman
squashed
the
flowers
all
in
a
bunch
,
and
had
n't
any
small
talk
,
and
what
interested
Miss
Kilman
bored
her
mother
,
and
Miss
Kilman
and
she
were
terrible
together
;
and
Miss
Kilman
swelled
and
looked
very
plain
.
But
then
Miss
Kilman
was
frightfully
clever
.
Elizabeth
had
never
thought
about
the
poor
.
They
lived
with
everything
they
wanted
--
her
mother
had
breakfast
in
bed
every
day
;
Lucy
carried
it
up
;
and
she
liked
old
women
because
they
were
Duchesses
,
and
being
descended
from
some
Lord
.
But
Miss
Kilman
said
(
one
of
those
Tuesday
mornings
when
the
lesson
was
over
)
,
"
My
grandfather
kept
an
oil
and
colour
shop
in
Kensington
.
"
Miss
Kilman
made
one
feel
so
small
.
