large enquiring eyes.

"I wasn't thinking of a man particularly," said Clarissa. "But you
will."

"No. I shall never marry," Rachel determined.

"I shouldn't be so sure of that," said Clarissa. Her sidelong glance
told Rachel that she found her attractive although she was inexplicably
amused.

"Why do people marry?" Rachel asked.

"That's what you're going to find out," Clarissa laughed.

Rachel followed her eyes and found that they rested for a second, on the
robust figure of Richard Dalloway, who was engaged in striking a match
on the sole of his boot; while Willoughby expounded something, which
seemed to be of great interest to them both.

"There's nothing like it," she concluded. "Do tell me about the
Ambroses. Or am I asking too many questions?"

"I find you easy to talk to," said Rachel.

The short sketch of the Ambroses was, however, somewhat perfunctory, and
contained little but the fact that Mr. Ambrose was her uncle.

"Your mother's brother?"

When a name has dropped out of use, the lightest touch upon it tells.
Mrs. Dalloway went on:

"Are you like your mother?"

"No; she was different," said Rachel.

She was overcome by an intense desire to tell Mrs. Dalloway things she
had never told any one--things she had not realised herself until this
moment.

"I am lonely," she began. "I want--" She did not know what she wanted,
so that she could not finish the sentence; but her lip quivered.

But it seemed that Mrs. Dalloway was able to understand without words.

"I know," she said, actually putting one arm round Rachel's shoulder.
"When I was your age I wanted too. No one understood until I met
Richard. He gave me all I wanted. He's man and woman as well." Her eyes
rested upon Mr. Dalloway, leaning upon the rail, still talking. "Don't
think I say that because I'm his wife--I see his faults more clearly
than I see any one else's. What one wants in the person one lives with
is that they should keep one at one's best. I often wonder what I've
done to be so happy!" she exclaimed, and a tear slid down her cheek. She
wiped it away, squeezed Rachel's hand, and exclaimed:

"How good life is!" At that moment, standing out in the fresh breeze,
with the sun upon the waves, and Mrs. Dalloway's hand upon her arm, it
seemed indeed as if life which had been unnamed before was infinitely
wonderful, and too good to be true.

Here Helen passed them, and seeing Rachel arm-in-arm with a comparative
stranger, lo