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. His treatment of his wife is most unsatisfactory. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. ” Just then the man’s eyes opened. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. A door in this house opened upon the yard.
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