...of a queen struck dumb

It was exciting to be with writers she had come to think of as her friends and whom she longed to know. But now, when she was aching to declare her fellow feeling with those whose books she had read and admired, she found she had nothing to say. She, who had seldom in her life been intimidated by anyone, now found herself tongue-tied and awkward, 'I adored your book,' would have said it all, but fifty years of composure and self-possession plus half a century of understatement stood in the way. Hard put for conversation, she found herself falling back on some of her stock stand-bys. It wasn't quite 'How far did you have to come?' but their literary equivalent. 'How do you think of your characters? Do you work regular hours? Do you use a word-processor?' - questions which she knew were cliches and were embarrassing to inflict had the awkward silence not been worse.

[The Uncommon Reader, Bennet, A.]