He--the shy young man--loves the heroine, oh so devotedly (but only in asides, for he dare not tell her of it), and he is so noble and unselfish, and speaks in such a low voice, and is so good to his mother; and the bad people in the play, they laugh at him and jeer at him, but he takes it all so gently, and in the end it transpires that he is such a clever man, though nobody knew it, and then the heroine tells him she loves him, and he is so surprised, and oh, so happy
I am fully prepared to allow the shy young man that virtue: he is constant in his love.
The shy man, who never looks at anything but his own boots, sees not and is not tempted.
Not but what the shy man himself would much rather not be happy in that way.
One, pretending to imitate him, goes outside and comes in again in a ludicrously nervous manner, explaining to him afterward that that is the way he--meaning the shy fellow--walks into a room; or, turning to him with "This is the way you shake hands," proceeds to go through a comic pantomime with the rest of the room, taking hold of every one's hand as if it were a hot plate and flabbily dropping it again.
There is no such thing as a shy woman, or, at all events, I have never come across one, and until I do I shall not believe in them.
I just made a YouTube video about shyness, and my new novel, Ava and Pip, is about a girl who's painfully shy
until her sister helps her come out of her shell.
This encounter becomes significant when, in the second week, Shy
is followed by a mysterious man who wants information.
The new study tests four possible explanations for the association: that shy
children practice speaking less and so their speech becomes delayed, that children with delayed speech become shy
because they have difficulty talking, that shy
children understand what's being said but are simply reticent to speak, and that shy
children's speech is actually normal while outgoing children's speech is above average.