Quicksands by B.M. Croker — Read

Two days after my visit to the Dower House, Aunt Mina arrived home. Her return occasioned an extraordinary commotion; what conscientious dusting, what airing of rooms, and what extravagant fires! She was accompanied by my cousins, her future son-in-law, and various guests, also by several maids -- including her kennel-maid and four tiny griffons. We had not met for nearly two years, and the deadly fear I entertained of her in childhood and flapperdom had waned. My nerves were stronger, I felt more independent, I looked on my aunt dispassionately, fought hard to smother my sense of personal antipathy and distaste, and to put myself in the place of a stranger, meeting her for the first time. If my uncle was well featured, and of short stature, his wife was his opposite in appearance; tall and bony, with high square shoulders, a pair of bluish green eyes, a large domineering nose, and a sunken, bitter mouth. A plain woman, who made the utmost of her appearance, had admirable taste in dress, and carried herself with dignity. I am glad to state that I did not quail when we met in the library, and she accorded me a smudgy kiss.

"Delighted to see you, Eva," she said. "Hubert," turning to an elderly gentleman with an eyeglass, "this is my niece, or rather my husband's niece, Eva Lingard."