"Joy!" cried Clarissa. "It is!"

_Hamlet_ was what you might call too introspective for Mr. Grice, the
sonnets too passionate; Henry the Fifth was to him the model of an
English gentleman. But his favourite reading was Huxley, Herbert
Spencer, and Henry George; while Emerson and Thomas Hardy he read for
relaxation. He was giving Mrs. Dalloway his views upon the present state
of England when the breakfast bell rung so imperiously that she had to
tear herself away, promising to come back and be shown his sea-weeds.

The party, which had seemed so odd to her the night before, was already
gathered round the table, still under the influence of sleep, and
therefore uncommunicative, but her entrance sent a little flutter like a
breath of air through them all.

"I've had the most interesting talk of my life!" she exclaimed, taking
her seat beside Willoughby. "D'you realise that one of your men is a
philosopher and a poet?"

"A very interesting fellow--that's what I always say," said Willoughby,
distinguishing Mr. Grice. "Though Rachel finds him a bore."

"He's a bore when he talks about currents," said Rachel. Her eyes were
full of sleep, but Mrs. Dalloway still seemed to her wonderful.

"I've never met a bore yet!" said Clarissa.

"And I should say the world was full of them!" exclaimed Helen. But her
beauty, which was radiant in the morning light, took the contrariness