’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. They were now both in a state of unprecedented physical fitness. 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 shall give you my life, every moment and thought of my life. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear.
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