plague to-morrow. Mr. Grice
recalled dreadful sights which he had seen in the richest city of the
world--men and women standing in line hour after hour to receive a mug
of greasy soup. "And I thought of the good flesh down here waiting
and asking to be caught. I'm not exactly a Protestant, and I'm not
a Catholic, but I could almost pray for the days of popery to come
again--because of the fasts."

As he talked he kept opening drawers and moving little glass jars. Here
were the treasures which the great ocean had bestowed upon him--pale
fish in greenish liquids, blobs of jelly with streaming tresses, fish
with lights in their heads, they lived so deep.

"They have swum about among bones," Clarissa sighed.

"You're thinking of Shakespeare," said Mr. Grice, and taking down a copy
from a shelf well lined with books, recited in an emphatic nasal voice:

"Full fathom five thy father lies,

"A grand fellow, Shakespeare," he said, replacing the volume.

Clarissa was so glad to hear him say so.

"Which is your favourite play? I wonder if it's the same as mine?"

"_Henry the Fifth_," said Mr. Grice.

"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 ra