Explore "Memoirs of a Midget" by Walter de la Mare on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In happier circumstances, the next morning's post might have reassured me. Two letters straddled my breakfast tray, for I always had this meal in my own room. One of them was from Wanderslore -- a long, crooked, roundabout letter, that seemed to taunt, upbraid, and entreat me, turn and turn about. It ended with a proposal of marriage.
In most of the novels I have read, the heroine simply basks in such a proposal, even though scarcely her fingertips are warmed by its rays. For my part, this letter, far from making me happy or even complacent, produced nothing but a feeling of fretfulness and shame. Thrusting it back into its envelope, I listened a while as if an eavesdropper might have overheard my silent reading of it -- as if I must hide. Then, with eyes fixed on my small coffeepot, I sank into a low, empty reverie.