She was a fair, fleshy, quite pretty young woman.
"That woman would sleep on a tomb-stone if she set out to," said the lawyer.

His speech, when alone with his own household, was more forcible and not so well regulated.

Indeed, he did not come of a polished family; he was the only educated one among them.

His sister, Mrs.Low, regarded him with all the deference and respect which her own decided and self-sufficient character could admit of, and often sounded his praises in her unrestrained New England dialect.
"She seemed like a real set kind of a woman, then ?" said she now.
"Set is no name for it," replied her brother.
"Well, if that's so, I guess old Mr.Maxwell wa'n't so far wrong when he didn't have her down here before," she remarked, with a judicial air.

Her spectacles glittered, and her harsh, florid face bent severely over the sugar-bowl and the cups and saucers.
The lamp-light was mellow in the neat, homely dining-room, and there was a soft aroma of boiling tea all about.