The malicious asserted that he now kept guard at Buckingham Palace, over what nobody knew. He brushed surfaces the dead languages, the living, life in Constantinople, Paris, Rome riding, shooting, tennis, it had been once. And Hugh Whitbread, a friend of the Dalloways has opted for a life of little consequence as a minor court official, merely touching the surface of life and attracting sniggers from acquaintances. Intellect has turned into a form of religious fanaticism and resentment for all the things that Doris Kilman, a tutor employed by the Dalloway family, could not have or could not be. Rebellious natures like those of Sally Seton have been suppressed by marriage to a bald manufacturer with £10,000 a year and “myriad of servants, miles of conservatories”. It’s evident in even the minor characters. Chances lost dreams unfulfilled expectations diminished: virtually all the characters in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway seemed to me to be failures in many ways.
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