” She changed the subject abruptly. "When I went through your trunk that first night, I discovered an envelope filled with manuscripts. But his daughter might well have a claim. 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. Captain Kneebone! we must trouble you to accompany us. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity.
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