Mrs. Dalloway

For of course it was that afternoon, that very afternoon, that Dalloway
had come over; and Clarissa called him “Wickham”; that was the
beginning of it all. Somebody had brought him over; and Clarissa got
his name wrong. She introduced him to everybody as Wickham. At last
he said “My name is Dalloway!”--that was his first view of Richard--a
fair young man, rather awkward, sitting on a deck-chair, and blurting
out “My name is Dalloway!” Sally got hold of it; always after that she
called him “My name is Dalloway!”

He was a prey to revelations at that time. This one--that she would
marry Dalloway--was blinding--overwhelming at the moment. There was a
sort of--how could he put it?--a sort of ease in her manner to him;
something maternal; something gentle. They were talking about politics.
All through dinner he tried to hear what they were saying.

Afterwards he could remember standing by old Miss Parry’s chair in the
drawing-room. Clarissa came up, with her perfect manners, like a real
hostess, and wanted to introduce him to some one--spoke as if they had
never met before, which enraged him. Yet even then he admired her for
it. He admired her courage; her social instinct; he admired her power