Lord Avonleigh, when they met at supper. "But never mind, Francesca, I dare say we shall be able to find you a husband in England."
Is there aught more provoking than the misinterpretation of our saddest thoughts? However, Francesca forced a smile, and endeavoured to answer the raillery in which he continued to indulge, while her spirits felt more and more depressed at every word. What an extraordinary mental delusion jesting is; that sort of laboured vivacity which fancies it is pointed when it is only personal; and more extraordinary still, it is always the resource of stupid people. "Take any shape but that!" is what I always feel tempted to exclaim when dulness attempts a joke; striving to pervert some poor innocent and ill-used word from its lawful meaning till it ceases to have any at all—worrying some unfortunate idea till, like the hunted hare, it is worried to death—dealing in witticisms whose edge has long since been worn off by constant use; and truly to the many, witticisms not only require to be explained, like riddles, but are also like new shoes, which people require to wear many times before they get accustomed to them. No, let the generality inflict upon you histories of themselves and their kind, even to the third and fourth generation—let them
