“Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. 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 had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. She approached Ruth with open arms; and something in the way the child came into that kindly embrace hurt the older woman to the point of tears. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. " "She has suffered enough for you," said Wood. ‘Oh, peste. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. ‘Certainly, if I was a nun, I know of many good names.
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