Mrs. Dalloway

The ladies were going upstairs already, said Lucy; the ladies were
going up, one by one, Mrs. Dalloway walking last and almost always
sending back some message to the kitchen, “My love to Mrs. Walker,”
that was it one night. Next morning they would go over the dishes--the
soup, the salmon; the salmon, Mrs. Walker knew, as usual underdone,
for she always got nervous about the pudding and left it to Jenny;
so it happened, the salmon was always underdone. But some lady with
fair hair and silver ornaments had said, Lucy said, about the entrée,
was it really made at home? But it was the salmon that bothered Mrs.
Walker, as she spun the plates round and round, and pulled in dampers
and pulled out dampers; and there came a burst of laughter from the
dining-room; a voice speaking; then another burst of laughter--the
gentlemen enjoying themselves when the ladies had gone. The tokay,
said Lucy running in. Mr. Dalloway had sent for the tokay, from the
Emperor’s cellars, the Imperial Tokay.

It was borne through the kitchen. Over her shoulder Lucy reported how
Miss Elizabeth looked quite lovely; she couldn’t take her eyes off her;
in her pink dress, wearing the necklace Mr. Dalloway had given her.