" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. " Ruth's eyes began to glow. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. 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. Alderley’s company of militia being his own, he was able to choose duty periods convenient to himself and his captain, and was under no obligation to wear dress uniform. Her elbows were ready. " "Perhaps that was it. "It is plain he has been destroyed by his perfidious accomplice," rejoined Thames.
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