I know that the tune I am piping is a very mild one (although there are some terrific chapters coming presently), and must beg the good-natured reader to remember, that we are only discoursing at present about a stockbrokers's family in Russell Square, who are taking walks, or luncheon, or dinner, or talking and making love as people do in common life, and without a single passionate and wonderful incident to mark their progress of their loves.

Vanity Fair (William Makepeace Thackeray)

Mr. Makepeace Thackeray! Sie unterhalten mich sehr, es sei Ihnen verziehen :D