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. He hated himself a little for it. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. . She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. ‘But I have been perfectly honest about that.
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