Virginia Woolf does not leave us with thorough hatred for Doris Kilman, however; she draws us back and gives us the distance to pity this thwarted creature. Her last words, in fact, as she calls after Elizabeth are "Don't quite forget me." They are very much like the words Clarissa called after Elizabeth as she left the house, "Remember the party." Both women, Clarissa and Doris, are frightened of loneliness. Clarissa's parties are her restorative, but Miss Kilman has no such solace, not even in the church. She feels that Clarissa has won and that she has lost. Her love for Elizabeth and her hate for Clarissa have torn her apart.
Clarissa, on the other hand, fears that Doris Kilman has won the battle for Elizabeth. Neither woman, we realize, has won thus far. If Elizabeth belongs to anyone, which is doubtful, it might be her father. Like Richard, she is pliable. She allows Miss Kilman to dominate much of her time, just as Richard allows Hugh Whitbread to corral him into the jewelry shop. And, also like her father, she prefers being in the country to London. Parties tire her and compliments are beginning to bore her. She is, according to her class, disciplined; so she returns punctually for Clarissa's party. But Elizabeth has not begun to really either live or love yet. She is only at the brink of adulthood. What will Elizabeth eventually be like? It's impossible to say because in addition to being like her father, she is carrying her mother's sense of privacy. She daydreams of helping other people, but it is as the mistress of a grand manor that she sees herself — making the rounds, checking on the health of the workers. It is a silly, adolescent ideal but it does contain this kernel: she would help others, she would love — but from a distance, a social distance, in this case, but still a distance.
