to talk to another, as I did, while I danced with him; but I could not help it. "Could not help it"—is not that the reason given for nine out of ten of our actions? He talked to no one but myself: I wish he had spoken to some one else. I should like to hear what he talked about. The other men did not like him; they called him a coxcomb. Peculiarity in dress is never popular with your own sex; if possible, you will be called vulgar: if that be quite out of the question, there is the resource of calling you affected. Ethel thinks him handsome; but she is so taken up with her own thoughts that she has not much attention for any thing else.
Really, being in love appears a pleasant state of existence; it is always agreeable to know that there is another thinking of you, whether you think of them or not. I like the idea of there being one individual leaving your room who will bear away every look you have given, every word you have said,—it gives importance to them in your own eyes; and yet I have often marvelled what
