It was the light of the cottage which was to be my temporary home.
A very tall, gaunt woman stood in the doorway against the inner glow.
She advanced with a loose, long stride, and invited me to enter in a voice harsh (I took it) from disuse.

I was warming myself before the kitchen fire when she came in carrying my heaviest box as though it had nothing in it.

I ran to take it from her, for the box was full of books, but she shook her head, and was on the stairs with it before I could intercept her.
I conceive that very few men are attracted by abnormal strength in a woman; we cannot help it; and yet it was not her strength which first repelled me in Mrs.Braithwaite.It was a combination of attributes.

She had a poll of very dirty and untidy red hair; her eyes were set close together; she had the jowl of the traditional prize-fighter.

But far more disagreeable than any single feature was the woman's expression, or rather the expression which I caught her assuming naturally, and banishing with an effort for my benefit.