“If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. All his dreams shattered in an instant. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. Her tone was hoarse with passion. She looked down at him and was amazed to see him erect again, amazed at the incredible virility that he possessed. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. End of Project Gutenberg's Anna the Adventuress, by E.
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