He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. 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 said it. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. . ‘Parbleu, you waste time. ’ ‘But you do not make love,’ Melusine pointed out.
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