Mother takes me to a ball: it seems to me she only takes me to get me married off as soon as may be, and be rid of me.

I know it's not the truth, but I can't drive away such thoughts.

Eligible suitors, as they call them--I can't bear to see them.

It seems to me they're taking stock of me and summing me up.

In old days to go anywhere in a ball dress was a simple joy to me, I admired myself; now I feel ashamed and awkward.