“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any
one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “You stupid bitch. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. I don’t play anything. You have the look
in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. Not fit to be dust on your boots. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it
would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his
suspicions. . I’ll come and see
you again later on. 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 come into
these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it
makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. "
"Keep in your own room, at all events," rejoined Kneebone.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 04-07-2024 03:19:25