I should say she was passionless--a predestined spinster.

She has never drunk hot tea or lived in the sun or laughed a hearty laugh.

I remember once, at my wit's end for talk, telling her the old story of Theodore Hook accosting a pompous stranger on the street with the polite request that he might know whether he was anybody in particular.

She said, without a smile, "Yes, it was astonishing how rude some people could be." And her godfathers and godmothers gave her the name of Rosalie.

Mine might just as well have called me Hercules or Puck.
She told me that her mother intended to ask me to dine with them one evening next week.