Arm-chairs are _the_ important things--" She began wheeling them about.

"Now, does it still look like a bar at a railway station ?" She whipped a plush cover off a table.

The appearance of the place was marvellously improved.
Again, the arrival of the strangers made it obvious to Rachel, as the hour of dinner approached, that she must change her dress; and the ringing of the great bell found her sitting on the edge of her berth in such a position that the little glass above the washstand reflected her head and shoulders.

In the glass she wore an expression of tense melancholy, for she had come to the depressing conclusion, since the arrival of the Dalloways, that her face was not the face she wanted, and in all probability never would be.
However, punctuality had been impressed on her, and whatever face she had, she must go in to dinner.
These few minutes had been used by Willoughby in sketching to the Dalloways the people they were to meet, and checking them upon his fingers.
"There's my brother-in-law, Ambrose, the scholar (I daresay you've heard his name), his wife, my old friend Pepper, a very quiet fellow, but knows everything, I'm told.

And that's all.