No idea other than an obvious one ever had birth behind her high, smooth forehead, and she habitually brought conversation to a close by the dry enunciation of something indubitably true, which had no direct relation to the point under discussion.

But she had faint, ineradicable prejudices, and instincts not quite dormant.

There was a large quantity of mild affection in her nature, the quality of which may be illustrated by the fact that when her father died she cried a little every day after breakfast for about six weeks.

Then she did not cry any more.

It was impossible not to like what there was of her, but there was really very little to like, for she belonged heart and soul to the generation and the breeding among which it is enough for a woman to be a lady, and visit the keeper's wife when she has a baby.
But though there was so little of her, the balance was made up for by the fact that there was so much of her husband.