For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. I am no exception. 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. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. Only an undermaid I was then. Before we start, I'll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles. "That's it!"—eagerly. The inherent conscience keeps most of us away from jail, from court, from the gallows; the acquired conscience helps us to preserve the little amenities of daily life.
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