“The little English girl is very fortunate. Mr. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. John’s demeanor shifted. “Exactly. She began to want to lay her head down on his chest but absolutely denied herself. After all, she found herself reflecting, behind her aunt’s complacent visage there was a past as lurid as any one’s—not, of course, her aunt’s own personal past, which was apparently just that curate and almost incredibly jejune, but an ancestral past with all sorts of scandalous things in it: fire and slaughterings, exogamy, marriage by capture, corroborees, cannibalism! Ancestresses with perhaps dim anticipatory likenesses to her aunt, their hair less neatly done, no doubt, their manners and gestures as yet undisciplined, but still ancestresses in the direct line, must have danced through a brief and stirring life in the woady buff. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure.
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