She laughed as the deluge seemed to
grow worse with every step. 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. "
"Ja," answered Van Galgebrok. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the
‘Ambassador’s’ again. Sir John heard gossip about us—about Anna the recluse, a paragon
of virtue, and Annabel alias ‘Alcide’ a dancer at the cafés chantants, and
concerning whom there were many stories which were false, and a few—which
were true. They live
in Arizona now, just as happy as ever from what I hear. Now, more than ever, it was time to start
running. He smiled tenderly. ”
“You could never be that,” he answered, “but you are at least more serious than
usual. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier. . You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna.
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