Image: thanks to Louise at ‘The Storyteller’s Abode”.
My sister was a snob there was no two ways about it. She looked down her nose at everyone.
It was mother’s fault. As my sister’s role model, a haughtier woman, you’d never come across. My mother never said a lot, it was her look that told you everything. One withering look from her and you were cactus.
My sister inherited the same the look of distain, the appearance of superiority and the air of social aloofness.
She was courted by several men. Each had his good point and in my sister’s eyes multitudinous bad points. Lester Courteny was the ‘most’ successful. He actually went out to dinner with her. But he didn’t escort her home. She walked out during the dessert. The strawberry cheesecake wasn’t to her liking and neither was Lester.
She lived in her room, read extensively and said little to any man who approached her. I think my father had a lot to do with that.