Behold Here's Poison by Georgette Heyer Page B

if he had had more imagination—and yet I don't know that it would have made any difference. Sometimes I think that he was brought up to be selfish through and through. I was very, very fond of him, but I don't think he ever had a thought for anyone but himself in all his life.'
    'He was rather a mean brute,' agreed Stella.
    'No, darling, you must never think that,' said her mother gently. 'Try only to look on the best side of people. Your uncle had some very sterling qualities, and it wasn't his fault that he was hard, and selfish, and not always very kind to others. We cannot help our natures, though some of us do try.'
    'Well,' said Stella, correctly divining the reason for these strictures on her uncle's character, 'one comfort is that Aunt Harriet can't live for ever.'
    'That kind of person nearly always does,' said Mrs Matthews, forgetting for the moment to be Christian. 'She'll go on and on, getting more eccentric every day.'
    Stella laughed. 'Cheer up, Mummy! She's years older than you are, anyway.'
    'I only wish that I had her health,' said Mrs Matthews gloomily. 'Unfortunately I've never been strong, and I'm not likely to get better at my age. My nerves are not a thing I should ever expect your aunt to sympathise with—I've often noticed that people who are never ill themselves have not the faintest understanding of what it means to be more or less always seedy—but though I make a point of never letting anyone guess how very far from well I often feel, I do sometimes long for a little more consideration.'
    'Aunt Harriet isn't such a bad old stick,' remarked Guy, glancing up from his book.
    'You don't have to live with her all day,' replied his mother with a touch of asperity. She recollected herself, and added: 'Not that I don't fully realise all her good points, but I can't help wondering what induced your uncle to leave her a half-share in this great house. She would be far happier in a little place of her own. She's always complaining that this house is too big, and runs away with so much money, and we all know that she really is not capable of doing the housekeeping—which I've no doubt she'll insist on doing the same as ever.'
    'But mother, you know your health would never stand the worry of housekeeping,' said Stella tactfully.
    'No, darling, that is not to be thought of—not that I should consider my health for a moment if it weren't my duty to keep myself as well as possible for your sakes—but if I had my way I should install a competent housekeeper.'
    'That's more or less what Aunt Harriet is,' said Guy.
    'She is not in the least competent,' retorted Mrs Matthews. 'And really her mania for using things up, and saving money on sheer necessities, like coal, will drive me into my grave! It's all very well for you two: you have your own lives, and your own amusements, but at my age I don't think I'm unreasonable to want a house of my own, where I can entertain my friends without having Harriet grudging every mouthful they eat, and wanting to turn off all the lights at eleven o'clock!'
    'If you mind frightfully,' said Stella, 'wouldn't your income run to a small flat, or something?'
    'Not to be thought of!' said Mrs Matthews firmly. 'I have to be very careful as it is.'
    It was evident that she was a good deal moved, and Stella, who had not before realised how confidently she had expected to be left in sole possession of the Poplars, did what she could to console her. This was not very much, since honesty compelled her to admit that Miss Harriet Matthews was an impossible companion for anyone of Mrs Matthews' temperament. Honesty also compelled her to admit that Mrs Matthews herself was not the ideal housemate, but loyalty to her mother would not allow her to listen to her aunt's rambling complaints. Guy, though quite fond of his aunt, always defended his mother from any criticism levelled at her by any other person than himself or Stella, so Miss Matthews was in the unfortunate position of having a