Hilda Marsh—Hilda the blooming, the full bosomed, the matronly.
Her features, once soft and matronly, flamed with uncontrollable passions.
She was little if any older than the girl, but her air was that of matronly wisdom.
A matronly woman, of portly dimensions, met them in the hallway.
She was a matronly person, with a bland smile on her countenance.
He does not foresee ...