considering how thin the partitions were between them, and how strangely
they had been lifted off the earth to sit next each other in mid-ocean,
and see every detail of each other's faces, and hear whatever they
chanced to say.





Chapter IV


Next morning Clarissa was up before anyone else. She dressed, and was
out on deck, breathing the fresh air of a calm morning, and, making the
circuit of the ship for the second time, she ran straight into the lean
person of Mr. Grice, the steward. She apologised, and at the same time
asked him to enlighten her: what were those shiny brass stands for, half
glass on the top? She had been wondering, and could not guess. When he
had done explaining, she cried enthusiastically:

"I do think that to be a sailor must be the finest thing in the world!"

"And what d'you know about it?" said Mr. Grice, kindling in a strange
manner. "Pardon me. What does any man or woman brought up in England
know about the sea? They profess to know; but they don't."

The bitterness with which he spoke was ominous of what was to come.
He led her off to his own quarters, and, sitting on the edge of a
brass-bound table, looking uncommonly like a sea-gull, with her white
tapering body and thin alert face, Mrs. Dalloway had to listen to the