Why this was so, was hard to say.
Phebe was pretty, and lovable, and sweet tempered.

If she was not sparkling or witty, neither was she sarcastic; and bright enough she was certainly, though not intellectual, and though she talked little save with a few.

It was strange.

True as steel, possessed of that keen sense of justice and honor so strangely lacking in many women, with a passionate capability for love and devotion and self-sacrifice beyond power of fathoming, and above all with a clinging womanly nature that yearned for affection as a flower longs for light, she was yet the only girl out of all her set who had never had any especial attention.
Perhaps it was because she was no flirt.

Bell Masters said no girl could get along who did not flirt.