In these mysterious moods I did not like her. I experienced a strange tumultuous excitement that was pleasurable, ever and anon mingled with a vague sense or fear and disgust. I had no distinct thoughts about her while such scenes lasted, but I was conscious of a love growing into adoration, and also of abhorrence. This I know is a paradox, but I can make no other attempt to explain the feeling.

Girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes; but in the meantime there are grubs and larvae, don't you see - each eith their peculiar propensities, necessities, and structure.