Her utterances are hardly more brilliant than my own.
You will despise me, I think, friends, when I tell you that in these days I made one or two pitiful little efforts to imitate her, to copy, distantly and humbly indeed, the fashion of her clothes, to learn the trick of her voice, of her slow, soft gait, of her little, surprised laugh.

But I soon give it up.

If I tried till my death-day, I should never arrive at any thing but a miserable travesty.

Before--ere Roger's return--I used complacently to treasure up any little civil speeches, any small compliments that people paid me, thinking, "If such and such a one think me pleasing, why may not Roger ?" But now I have given this up, too.
I seem to myself to have grown very dull.

I think my wits are not so bright as they used to be.