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Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. 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’ll pay you if I have to work at shirt-making at threepence an hour. “Not really. ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. ” “I thought every one knew. Paintings sold off the walls. Myn Got! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester.
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