Little as I know of the world, I know that--at least for one like me.

It may seem weak and silly to you, but, brought up as I had been, I was morbidly sensitive.

You might have meant to be kind and sympathetic and all that, and yet have hurt me cruelly.
I have been out with you enough to know how I am regarded.

I don't complain.

I suppose it is the way of the world, but it has not been your way.