an, her body wrapped in furs, her head in veils, while
Mr. Dalloway appeared to be a middle-sized man of sturdy build, dressed
like a sportsman on an autumnal moor. Many solid leather bags of a
rich brown hue soon surrounded them, in addition to which Mr. Dalloway
carried a despatch box, and his wife a dressing-case suggestive of a
diamond necklace and bottles with silver tops.

"It's so like Whistler!" she exclaimed, with a wave towards the shore,
as she shook Rachel by the hand, and Rachel had only time to look at the
grey hills on one side of her before Willoughby introduced Mrs. Chailey,
who took the lady to her cabin.

Momentary though it seemed, nevertheless the interruption was upsetting;
every one was more or less put out by it, from Mr. Grice, the steward,
to Ridley himself. A few minutes later Rachel passed the smoking-room,
and found Helen moving arm-chairs. She was absorbed in her arrangements,
and on seeing Rachel remarked confidentially:

"If one can give men a room to themselves where they will sit, it's all
to the good. Arm-chairs are _the_ important things--" She began wheeling
them about. "Now, does it still look like a bar at a railway station?"

She whipped a plush cover off a table. The appearance of the place was
marvellously improved.

Again, the arrival of the strangers made it obvious to Rachel, as the
hour of dinner approached, that she must change her dress; and the
ringing of the great bell found her sitting on the edge of her berth in
such a position that the little glass above the washstand reflected
her head and shoulders. In the glass she wore an expression of tense
melancholy, for she had come to the depressing conclusion, since the
arrival of the Dalloways, that her face was not the face she wanted, and
in all probability never would be.

However, punctuality had been impressed on her, and whatever face she
had, she must go in to dinner.

These few minutes had been used by Willoughby in sketching to the
Dalloways the people they were to meet, and checking them upon his
fingers.

"There's my brother-in-law, Ambrose, the scholar (I daresay you've heard
his name), his wife, my old friend Pepper, a very quiet fellow, but
knows everything, I'm told. And that's all. We're a very small party.
I'm dropping them on the coast."

Mrs. Dalloway, with her head a little on one side, did her best to
recollect Ambrose--was it a surname?--but failed. She was made slightly
uneasy by what she h