My mother had great admiration for her (my great) aunt Blanca because of her high moral rectitude.
She lived with a woman, Betty, for many years. Betty, when I knew her, was small and hunched. I derided them less than my siblings did, but I, fond of gifts and attention, liked when they came. Later on, my sister and mother visited them, first Blanca and then Betty, when they grew ill.
At some point I grew fearful I was like Blanca. I was told I looked like her but had never found her demeanor appealing: her speech was too bulbous and salivary, an aging spinster with a deep intellect and strong convictions (one must be informed). Of course appearances are appearances. Her younger brother Daniel wears double-breasted suits. His son has a company that makes custom-fit jeans.
J.M. Coetzee to Curate Belgian Pavilion