Mrs Dalloway Page #4

If this is true we should certainly| not receive her again.

I should think not. If we start receiving | women like that, you don't know where it'll end?

Oh, you snob! You represent all that's | detestable in british middle class life.

It's men like you who's responsible | for prostitutes around Piccadilly.

Me! | Yes, men like you.

That's enough, Sally. We'll have no more | of this conversation.

I'm glad I walked out. They're all | such snobs and Hugh is a fraud.

Clarissa is so prudish | and arrogant.

Not really.

It's just what she's been brought up to. | Wish she would see things more clearly.

Clearly enough to marry you, |you mean?

I see.

This is Mr. Wickham, Peter. | My name is Dalloway.

Richard Dalloway.

But I've introduced you|to everyone as Mr. Wickham.

Still Dalloway. | My name is Dalloway.

Dalloway.

So definitly you're going|to go to politics?

Yes, I think so. | What is with your friend, Mr. ..?

"My name is Dalloway".

What's the matter?

Somebody's just walking | on my grave.

I took another friend. | She's gonna marry that man!

I went into the sea.

I have been dead.

But now I'm alive.

I must rest, I must rest.

Septimus, I'm going to ask | someone the time.

I think we have to go now.

It's nowhere to go, |nowhere to hide.

Septimus, you know we are going to see | a doctor who will help you.

No more doctors!

No more lies! | Septimus, please!

Irvin!

Thank you.

Evans?

Evans!

For God's sake, don't come!

Septimus, it isn't Evans, allright? | It isn't Evans.

There is nothing to worry about. | The man is not Evans.

Really, he isn't.

Come on.

Let's go for a walk.

Clarissa! It's such a lovely evening. | Let's go to the lake.

Yes! We can go boating.

Let's get our shoulds. | It might be cold.

Peter! We're going boating| on the lake. Aren't you coming?

I think Mr. Dalloway | likes you.

Oh, aren't we being | the perfect hostess?

Oh, don't come than if you're going |to be beastly in the wood.

"Dalloway. It's still Dalloway."

Come on.

They're all waiting.

Poor old woman.

Septimus, you won't tell | the doctor, will you?

You mustn't. | They will take you away from me.

Sir William BRADSHAW | M.D.

I've looked at Dr. Holmes's notes. | He's been seeing your husband for some six weeks?

Yes. | He is our landlady's doctor.

She send for him because | I told her I was worried about Septimus.

He threatened to kill himself? | He didn't mean it.

No. Of course not.

And Dr. Holmes prescribed ...

bromine? | Yes

He said that there was nothing really wrong. |

|But Septimus keeps talking to the dead man, Evans, |his friend who was killed in the war. |

And Septimus wasn't like this| when I met him.

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