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. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it.
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