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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 66/96
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Edward
Whittaker
,
and
Elizabeth
too
.
And
Elizabeth
waited
in
Victoria
Street
for
an
omnibus
.
It
was
so
nice
to
be
out
of
doors
.
She
thought
perhaps
she
need
not
go
home
just
yet
.
It
was
so
nice
to
be
out
in
the
air
.
So
she
would
get
on
to
an
omnibus
.
And
already
,
even
as
she
stood
there
,
in
her
very
well
cut
clothes
,
it
was
beginning
...
People
were
beginning
to
compare
her
to
poplar
trees
,
early
dawn
,
hyacinths
,
fawns
,
running
water
,
and
garden
lilies
;
and
it
made
her
life
a
burden
to
her
,
for
she
so
much
preferred
being
left
alone
to
do
what
she
liked
in
the
country
,
but
they
would
compare
her
to
lilies
,
and
she
had
to
go
to
parties
,
and
London
was
so
dreary
compared
with
being
alone
in
the
country
with
her
father
and
the
dogs
.
Buses
swooped
,
settled
,
were
off
--
garish
caravans
,
glistening
with
red
and
yellow
varnish
.
But
which
should
she
get
on
to
?
She
had
no
preferences
.
Of
course
,
she
would
not
push
her
way
.
She
inclined
to
be
passive
.
It
was
expression
she
needed
,
but
her
eyes
were
fine
,
Chinese
,
oriental
,
and
,
as
her
mother
said
,
with
such
nice
shoulders
and
holding
herself
so
straight
,
she
was
always
charming
to
look
at
;
and
lately
,
in
the
evening
especially
,
when
she
was
interested
,
for
she
never
seemed
excited
,
she
looked
almost
beautiful
,
very
stately
,
very
serene
.
What
could
she
be
thinking
?
Every
man
fell
in
love
with
her
,
and
she
was
really
awfully
bored
.
For
it
was
beginning
.
Her
mother
could
see
that
--
the
compliments
were
beginning
.
That
she
did
not
care
more
about
it
--
for
instance
for
her
clothes
--
sometimes
worried
Clarissa
,
but
perhaps
it
was
as
well
with
all
those
puppies
and
guinea
pigs
about
having
distemper
,
and
it
gave
her
a
charm
.
And
now
there
was
this
odd
friendship
with
Miss
Kilman
.
Well
,
thought
Clarissa
about
three
o'clock
in
the
morning
,
reading
Baron
Marbot
for
she
could
not
sleep
,
it
proves
she
has
a
heart
.
Suddenly
Elizabeth
stepped
forward
and
most
competently
boarded
the
omnibus
,
in
front
of
everybody
.
She
took
a
seat
on
top
.
The
impetuous
creature
--
a
pirate
--
started
forward
,
sprang
away
;
she
had
to
hold
the
rail
to
steady
herself
,
for
a
pirate
it
was
,
reckless
,
unscrupulous
,
bearing
down
ruthlessly
,
circumventing
dangerously
,
boldly
snatching
a
passenger
,
or
ignoring
a
passenger
,
squeezing
eel-like
and
arrogant
in
between
,
and
then
rushing
insolently
all
sails
spread
up
Whitehall
.
And
did
Elizabeth
give
one
thought
to
poor
Miss
Kilman
who
loved
her
without
jealousy
,
to
whom
she
had
been
a
fawn
in
the
open
,
a
moon
in
a
glade
?
She
was
delighted
to
be
free
.
The
fresh
air
was
so
delicious
.
It
had
been
so
stuffy
in
the
Army
and
Navy
Stores
.
And
now
it
was
like
riding
,
to
be
rushing
up
Whitehall
;
and
to
each
movement
of
the
omnibus
the
beautiful
body
in
the
fawn-coloured
coat
responded
freely
like
a
rider
,
like
the
figure-head
of
a
ship
,
for
the
breeze
slightly
disarrayed
her
;
the
heat
gave
her
cheeks
the
pallor
of
white
painted
wood
;
and
her
fine
eyes
,
having
no
eyes
to
meet
,
gazed
ahead
,
blank
,
bright
,
with
the
staring
incredible
innocence
of
sculpture
.
It
was
always
talking
about
her
own
sufferings
that
made
Miss
Kilman
so
difficult
.
And
was
she
right
?
If
it
was
being
on
committees
and
giving
up
hours
and
hours
every
day
(
she
hardly
ever
saw
him
in
London
)
that
helped
the
poor
,
her
father
did
that
,
goodness
knows
--
if
that
was
what
Miss
Kilman
meant
about
being
a
Christian
;
but
it
was
so
difficult
to
say
.
Oh
,
she
would
like
to
go
a
little
further
.
Another
penny
was
it
to
the
Strand
?
Here
was
another
penny
then
.
She
would
go
up
the
Strand
.
She
liked
people
who
were
ill
.
And
every
profession
is
open
to
the
women
of
your
generation
,
said
Miss
Kilman
.
So
she
might
be
a
doctor
.
She
might
be
a
farmer
.
Animals
are
often
ill
.
She
might
own
a
thousand
acres
and
have
people
under
her
.
She
would
go
and
see
them
in
their
cottages
.
This
was
Somerset
House
.
One
might
be
a
very
good
farmer
--
and
that
,
strangely
enough
though
Miss
Kilman
had
her
share
in
it
,
was
almost
entirely
due
to
Somerset
House
.
It
looked
so
splendid
,
so
serious
,
that
great
grey
building
.
And
she
liked
the
feeling
of
people
working
.
She
liked
those
churches
,
like
shapes
of
grey
paper
,
breasting
the
stream
of
the
Strand
.
It
was
quite
different
here
from
Westminster
,
she
thought
,
getting
off
at
Chancery
Lane
.
It
was
so
serious
;
it
was
so
busy
.
In
short
,
she
would
like
to
have
a
profession
.
She
would
become
a
doctor
,
a
farmer
,
possibly
go
into
Parliament
,
if
she
found
it
necessary
,
all
because
of
the
Strand
.
The
feet
of
those
people
busy
about
their
activities
,
hands
putting
stone
to
stone
,
minds
eternally
occupied
not
with
trivial
chatterings
(
comparing
women
to
poplars
--
which
was
rather
exciting
,
of
course
,
but
very
silly
)
,
but
with
thoughts
of
ships
,
of
business
,
of
law
,
of
administration
,
and
with
it
all
so
stately
(
she
was
in
the
Temple
)
,
gay
(
there
was
the
river
)
,
pious
(
there
was
the
Church
)
,
made
her
quite
determined
,
whatever
her
mother
might
say
,
to
become
either
a
farmer
or
a
doctor
.
But
she
was
,
of
course
,
rather
lazy
.
And
it
was
much
better
to
say
nothing
about
it
.
It
seemed
so
silly
.
It
was
the
sort
of
thing
that
did
sometimes
happen
,
when
one
was
alone
--
buildings
without
architects
'
names
,
crowds
of
people
coming
back
from
the
city
having
more
power
than
single
clergymen
in
Kensington
,
than
any
of
the
books
Miss
Kilman
had
lent
her
,
to
stimulate
what
lay
slumbrous
,
clumsy
,
and
shy
on
the
mind
's
sandy
floor
to
break
surface
,
as
a
child
suddenly
stretches
its
arms
;
it
was
just
that
,
perhaps
,
a
sigh
,
a
stretch
of
the
arms
,
an
impulse
,
a
revelation
,
which
has
its
effects
for
ever
,
and
then
down
again
it
went
to
the
sandy
floor
.
She
must
go
home
.
She
must
dress
for
dinner
.
But
what
was
the
time
?
--
where
was
a
clock
?
She
looked
up
Fleet
Street
.
She
walked
just
a
little
way
towards
St.
