Mrs. Dalloway

both tie and waistcoat or make his hair lie flat), and even at this
distance they were quarrelling, she could see. For Professor Brierly
was a very queer fish. With all those degrees, honours, lectureships
between him and the scribblers he suspected instantly an atmosphere
not favourable to his queer compound; his prodigious learning and
timidity; his wintry charm without cordiality; his innocence blent with
snobbery; he quivered if made conscious by a lady’s unkempt hair, a
youth’s boots, of an underworld, very creditable doubtless, of rebels,
of ardent young people; of would-be geniuses, and intimated with a
little toss of the head, with a sniff--Humph!--the value of moderation;
of some slight training in the classics in order to appreciate Milton.
Professor Brierly (Clarissa could see) wasn’t hitting it off with
little Jim Hutton (who wore red socks, his black being at the laundry)
about Milton. She interrupted.

She said she loved Bach. So did Hutton. That was the bond between them,
and Hutton (a very bad poet) always felt that Mrs. Dalloway was far the
best of the great ladies who took an interest in art. It was odd how
strict she was. About music she was purely impersonal. She was rather