Last week we learned about the word incommoded. It seemed like a silly word to me, but I didn’t want to say anything, you know how much I respect Henry James.
But then I found out that Isabel felt it was a difficult piece of vocab to swallow herself.
“You (Osmund) don’t offend me; but you ought to remember that, without being offended, one may be incommoded, troubled.” “Incommoded”: she heard herself saying that, and it struck her as a ridiculous word. But it was what stupidly came to her.
It’s okay, Isabel, it happens to the best of us – the author’s words begin to become our own. You should hear how many times I use the ignominy now.