In contrast to the last scene of safe quietude, we now see Clarissa pitted against a flesh-and-blood person, one who loved Clarissa long ago. This, incidentally, is the first vigorous male introduced to us. Clarissa did meet Hugh Whitbread in the park, but he was a rather pallid specimen of manhood — stiff, stale, and "upholstered." Now Clarissa meets her opposite — a male who lives vitally every day in his life.
Having been inside Clarissa's thoughts for so many pages, we expect her to panic when Peter arrives. Her nerves are frail and her thoughts have been fanciful and light as gossamer. We expect this reunion to be painful. It is — but not in the way we anticipate. It is Peter, not Clarissa, who suffers most in this scene. Virginia Woolf surprises us; therefore, we should consider how she accomplishes this reversal.
It is also too easy to imagine Clarissa's agony. We know that she is lost in thought ... safe in her house ... quietly preparing for her party. These private moments are holy. Then Peter shatters the silence of Clarissa's sewing. Of course Clarissa is inwardly furious at the bad manners of whoever has dared trespass into her home. Frightened, she even tries to hide her dress. Then she is calm. Why the change? The answer lies in the many years Clarissa has trained herself to respond like a lady — as nearly as possible — to any situation. Composure is regained and Clarissa is happy and excited but she continues to sew, working her needle mechanically. Judging from appearances, one would never guess the extent of Clarissa's thrill at seeing Peter. Again, there is an enormous contrast between appearance and reality. Not even Peter guesses what is happening inside Clarissa. The regularity of the motion of her sewing suggests to him that she might, conceivably, have always lived no more exciting a life than just this.
