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...greatness was passing, hidden, down Bond Street, removed only by a hand's-breadth from ordinary people who might now, for the first and last time, be within speaking distance of the majesty of England, of the enduring symbol of the state which will be known to curious antiquaries, sifting the ruins of time, when London is a grass-grown path and all those hurrying along the pavement this Wednesday morning are but bones with a few wedding rings mixed up in their dust and the gold stoppings of innumerable decayed teeth. The face in the motor car will then be known.
...holy crap, this is good.
, contrasted with the hard-working Lucrezia and the religious idealist Miss Kilman, etc. Both democracy and feminism are lurking in the wings, but far from there yet - the main character, after all, is a woman who settled for being "the perfect hostess" (and, not coincidentally, seems to have some other things going on that weren't spoken of openly yet - young Clarissa's attraction to Sally is hardly 100% heterosexual).Lady Bruton often suspended judgement upon men in deference to the mysterious accord in which they, but no woman, stood to the laws of the universe; knew how to put things; knew what was said; so that if Richard advised her, and Hugh wrote for her, she was sure of being somehow right.
Some of which, of course, is the direct result of one of the biggest ghosts in the story: WW1. You have Septimus, the shell-shocked veteran who lost his ability to feel in the trenches. You have the references to aeroplanes and Darwin, lots of old truths have been lost, blown up or found untenable, but nobody can quite figure out the new ones yet (nobody can read the message written by the aeroplane in the beginning).Those five years—1918 to 1923—had been, he suspected, somehow very important. People looked different. Newspapers seemed different.