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. It was not a hopeful looking group. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. ‘Your niece, ma’am. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. ” He said. ” Dessert was served. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Without realizing what she has done, she's made a dreadful mess of it. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them.
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