All the inflamed red and aged puckers and creases had disappeared; instead of that was the sweetest flush, like that of just-opened rosebuds.
Evelyn was a compact little baby, fat, but not overlapping and grossly fat.

It was such a matter of pride to Maria that the baby's cheeks did not hang the least bit in the world, but had only lovely little curves and dimples.

She had become quite a connoisseur in babies.

When she saw a baby whose flabby cheeks hung down and touched its bib, she was disgusted.

She felt as if there was something morally wrong with such a baby as that.