The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. Perhaps you will meet him someday. 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. Kneebone. But we're neglecting the punch all this time. Ever since he came here, three months ago, he has been the life and soul of the place; and now the death warrant has arrived, instead of being cast down, as most men would be, and as all others are, he's gayer than ever. Not at all. ” “I’m not. But … he must want to live in order that the inclination to repeat this incident may not recur. Worse than any man.
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