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. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. Mike dismissed her with a wave, and she left the room, knowing she could not say anything to please him she swiftly left the room. Lucy kissed him on the cheek. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you.
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