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. I put my foot down like—like adamant. Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. She was powerless to move from her chair. "That's for Winifred," vociferated the Amazon, bringing the cudgel heavily upon his shoulder.
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