And you know , mother , how she used to talk about my engagement . She is able to spoil the whole atmosphere if she happens to come in a bad humor . I do n't want her . '' `` She must be invited . People would talk so if she was n't . '' `` I do n't see why they should . She 's only my great-aunt by marriage . I would n't mind in the least if people did talk . They 'll talk anyway -- you know that , mother . '' `` Oh , we must have her , '' said Mrs. Spencer , with the indifferent finality that marked all her words and decisions -- a finality against which it was seldom of any avail to struggle . People , who knew , rarely attempted it ; strangers occasionally did , misled by the deceit of appearances . Isabella Spencer was a wisp of a woman , with a pale , pretty face , uncertainly-colored , long-lashed grayish eyes , and great masses of dull , soft , silky brown hair . She had delicate aquiline features and a small , babyish red mouth . She looked as if a breath would sway her . The truth was that a tornado would hardly have caused her to swerve an inch from her chosen path . For a moment Rachel looked rebellious ; then she yielded , as she generally did in all differences of opinion with her mother . It was not worth while to quarrel over the comparatively unimportant matter of Aunt Jane 's invitation . A quarrel might be inevitable later on ; Rachel wanted to save all her resources for that . She gave her shoulders a shrug , and wrote Aunt Jane 's name down on the wedding list in her large , somewhat untidy handwriting -- a handwriting which always seemed to irritate her mother . Rachel never could understand this irritation .
She could never guess that it was because her writing looked so much like that in a certain packet of faded letters which Mrs. Spencer kept at the bottom XXXXX an old horsehair trunk in her bedroom .
For against as from in of on that to with