These young ladies had either been so shy that they and
Theobald had never amalgamated, or they had been supposed to be clever
and had said smart things to him. He did not say smart things
himself and did not want other people to say them. Besides, they
talked about music- and he hated music- or pictures- and he hated
pictures- or books- and except the classics he hated books. And then
sometimes he was wanted to dance with them, and he did not know how to
dance, and did not want to know.
At Mrs. Cowey's parties again he had seen some young ladies and
had been introduced to them. He had tried to make himself agreeable,
but was always left with the impression that he had not been
successful. The young ladies of Mrs. Cowey's set were by no means
the most attractive that might have been found in the University,
and Theobald may be excused for not losing his heart to the greater
number of them, while if for a minute or two he was thrown in with one
of the prettier and more agreeable girls he was almost immediately cut
out by someone less bashful than himself, and sneaked off, feeling, as
far as the fair sex was concerned, like the impotent man at the pool
of Bethesda.
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