She could find no answer, but a laugh.
"Well, anyhow," she said, turning to Rachel, "I shall insist upon your playing to me to-morrow." There was that in her manner that made Rachel love her.
Mrs.Dalloway hid a tiny yawn, a mere dilation of the nostrils.
"D'you know," she said, "I'm extraordinarily sleepy.

It's the sea air.

I think I shall escape." A man's voice, which she took to be that of Mr.Pepper, strident in discussion, and advancing upon the saloon, gave her the alarm.
"Good-night--good-night!" she said.

"Oh, I know my way--do pray for calm! Good-night!" Her yawn must have been the image of a yawn.

Instead of letting her mouth droop, dropping all her clothes in a bunch as though they depended on one string, and stretching her limbs to the utmost end of her berth, she merely changed her dress for a dressing-gown, with innumerable frills, and wrapping her feet in a rug, sat down with a writing-pad on her knee.