She was a prim, fussy woman, born of a prim father and a fussy mother, so what was to be expected?
Her face was narrow and set, her body and her movements almost rigid, her hair, always parted, lifted from each side and tied on the crown, fell in stiff little curls, the back part hanging free.

Her speech, as precise as her movements, was formed into set habit through long study of the dictionary.

She was born antagonistic to whatever existed, no matter what it was.

So surely as every other woman agreed on a dress, a recipe, a house, anything whatever, so surely Agatha thought out and followed a different method, the disconcerting thing about her being that she usually finished any undertaking with less exertion, ahead of time, and having saved considerable money.
She could have written a fine book of synonyms, for as certainly as any one said anything in her presence that she had occasion to repeat, she changed the wording to six-syllabled mouthfuls, delivered with ponderous circumlocution.

She subscribed to papers and magazines, which she read and remembered.