If I really believed my bashfulness was only cuticle-deep, I'd be flayed to-day, and try and grow a hardier complexion without any Bloom of Youth in it.

No use! I could pave a ten-thousand-acre prairie with the "good intentions" I have wasted, the firm resolutions I have broken.

Born to be bashful is only another way of expressing the Bible truth, "Born to trouble as the sparks are to fly upward." When I sat down by the elderly lady in the railway train, I felt comparatively at ease.

She was older than mother, and I didn't mind her rather aggressive looks and ways; in short, I seemed to feel that in case of necessity she would protect me.

Not that I was afraid of anything, but she would probably at least keep me from proposing to any more young ladies.