She felt herself humiliated in the presence of the new pupil.
"If that fat girl ever gets a lover," she said indignantly, "I shall consider it my duty to warn the poor man before he marries her.
Her ridiculous name is Euphemia.

I have christened her (far more appropriately) Boiled Veal.

No color in her hair, no color in her eyes, no color in her complexion.

In short, no flavor in Euphemia.

You naturally object to snoring.