There is a young man in England . I always think of him as the Creature . He is the son of a man who was Father 's especial crony in boyhood , before Father emigrated to Canada . Worse than that , he comes of a family which has contracted a vile habit of marrying into our family . It has come down through the ages so long that it has become chronic . Father left most of his musty traditions in England , but he brought this pet one with him . He and this friend agreed that the latter 's son should marry one of Father 's daughters . It ought to have been Beatrix -- she is the oldest . But Beatrix had a pug nose . So Father settled on me . From my earliest recollection I have been given to understand that just as soon as I grew up there would be a ready-made husband imported from England for me . I was doomed to it from my cradle . Now , '' said the Girl , with a tragic gesture , `` I ask you , could anything be more hopelessly , appallingly stupid and devoid of romance than that ? '' The Young Man shook his head , but did not look at her . `` It 's pretty bad , '' he admitted . `` You see , '' said the Girl pathetically , `` the shadow of it has been over my whole life . Of course , when I was a very little girl I did n't mind it so much . It was such a long way off and lots of things might happen . The Creature might run away with some other girl -- or I might have the smallpox -- or Beatrix 's nose might be straight when she grew up . And if Beatrix 's nose were straight she 'd be a great deal prettier than I am .
But nothing did happen -- and her nose is puggier XXXXX ever .
From as in of on than that through to with