ROFLMAO! I just now dreamed of writing a cheesy novel about a married English couple. The novel progresses from their first meeting through their first twenty years of marriage. The final scene would end thus:
That evening, and following their supper of cold blood pudding, the two of them sat by their fireplace for an hour, each in his or her own chair, each with his or her own book, as was their custom most evenings. And there should be nothing out of the ordinary for the author of this novel to mention about them, except that Henry, at some point that evening, looked up from his tome to say to Ann, with a measure of feeling in his voice that was unusual to Henry, ""You are by little means wretched, Ann, at least, when it comes to the chance remark."
"Don't be a fool, Henry", Ann replied after the moment it took for her to regain her composure, for the remark had greatly moved her, "You presume to much!"
The couple now -- for the warmth of Henry's remark had made them both realize they were indeed a couple now -- the couple quietly returned to their books.
