” “I promise,” Annabel declared. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. “The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel,” she said. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. " No sooner had Wood crept through the window, than nature gave way, and he fainted. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. 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. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly.
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