That I refused refreshment.

That my soul recoiled from punch particularly.

That when Miss Murdstone took her into custody and led her away, she smiled and gave me her delicious hand.

That I caught a view of myself in a mirror, looking perfectly imbecile and idiotic.

That I retired to bed in a most maudlin state of mind, and got up in a crisis of feeble infatuation.
It was a fine morning, and early, and I thought I would go and take a stroll down one of those wire-arched walks, and indulge my passion by dwelling on her image.