I'd lived in a kind of stupor, I think, for a long time; then being with you was like a dream, and the sudden waking was too much for me.

I've been ashamed often, since, in thinking of it--and I was well punished for not taking you in.

I thought only of myself, and I behaved like a whining, unbalanced boy.

But I had whined from the moment I met you, because I was sickly with egoism and loneliness and self-pity.

I'm keeping you from the dancing.