In all that related to the tender passion, as it is called, I was an undeveloped being. The influence that men have on women, _because_ they are men, was really and truly a mystery to me. Iwas ashamed of my own coldness--I tried, honestly tried, to copy other girls; to feel my heart beating in the presence of the one chosen man. It was not to be done. When a man pressed my hand, Ifelt it in my rings, instead of my heart.
These confessions made, I have done with the past, and may now relate the events which my enemies, among the ladies, have described as presenting a shocking story.
III.
WE were in London for the season. One morning, I went out riding with my uncle, as usual, in Hyde Park.