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Not I. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. Kneebone's 346 XIV. ‘No, Melusine. 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. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. ’” Anna made no remark.
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