I of womankind and of nineteen years, will now begin to set down as full and frank a Portrayal as I am able of myself, Mary MacLane, for whom the world contains not a parallel. I have hunted for even the suggestion of a parallel among the several hundred persons that I call acquaintances. But in vain. There are people and people of varying depths and intricacies of character, but there is none to compare with me. The young ones of my own age--if I chance to give them but a glimpse of the real workings of my mind--can only stare at me in dazed stupidity, uncomprehending; and the old ones of forty and fifty--for forty and fifty are always old to nineteen--can but either stare also in stupidit…
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