I was at the British Council today. A very unpleasant afternoon. My auto driver was rather indecent, but the prospect of an air-conditioned room and a cluster of Lovely People urged me on at that derelict gate of the library. Sadly, people were not so lovely this afternoon. The security guard turned out to be indecent too, if not more; the woman who handled ' book returns' looked morose. Absolutely morose. With lips hung down on both corners, and deep sighs coming out every now and then. I am determined to add that the flowers in her hair didn't make her look any prettier.
Well. I hadn't paid my fine. When she scanned the books on my returning them, she gave me that morose sigh. I detested that. I detest any kind of sighs being addressed to me. People should say what they mean. A blow of air has a quality of open-endedness, which increases the risk of a person being offended by the same.

I hope nothing's very wrong with her (what's with the heavy moroseness?). But the morose-woman requires a gentle lesson in enunciation.