“I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. 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. She stared. ’ The girl held out her hands. She was struck by a change in his appearance. They were sitting alone, Lucy. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society.
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