Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. 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 cried out but his father only waved 280 like an automaton until the apparition disappeared. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust.
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