Full text: Mrs. Dalloway

MRS. DALLOWAY 
whole world seems to be saying “that is all’ more and 
more ponderously, until even the heart in the body 
which lies in the sun on the beach says too, that is all. 
Fear no more, says the heart. Fear no more, says the 
heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs 
collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, 
lets fall. And the body alone listens to the passing bee; 
the wave breaking; the dog barking, far away barking 
and barking. 
“Heavens, the front-door bell!” exclaimed Clarissa, 
staying her needle. Roused, she listened. 
“Mrs. Dalloway will see me,” said the elderly man 
in the hall. “Oh yes, she will see me,” he repeated, 
putting Lucy aside very benevolently, and running up- 
stairs ever so quickly. “Yes, yes, yes,” he muttered as 
he ran upstairs. “She will see me._After five years in 
India, Clarissa will see me.” 
“Who can—what can—" asked Mrs. Dalloway (think- 
ing it was outrageous to be interrupted at eleven o’clock 
on the morning of the day she was giving a party), 
hearing a step on the stairs. She heard a hand upon 
the door. She made to hide her dress, like a virgin pro- 
tecting chastity, respecting privacy. Now the brass 
knob slipped. Now the door opened, and in came—for 
a single second she could not remember what he was 
called! so surprised she was to see him, so glad, so shy, 
so utterly taken aback to have Pcter Walsh come to her 
unexpectedly in the morning! (She had not read his 
letter.) 
“And how are you?” said Peter Walsh, positively 
trembling; taking both her hands; kissing both her 
hands. She’s grown older, he thought, sitting down. I 
shan’t tell her anything about it, he thought, for she’s 
grown older. She’s looking at me, he thought, a sudden 
M.D.—4 
4.5
	        

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