"Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. She would not forgive me. Perhaps for the first time he realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. 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. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. I have held people spellbound—in confidence, so that we may be sure of its spreading like wildfire—with an account of all Melusine’s activities, and—’ Horror filled Melusine and she jumped up. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. “Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica.
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