Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. 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. " "You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely recovering his cheerfulness of look. Silly woman!.
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