"But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. ] CHAPTER XI The second call energized her into action. Meysey Hill—never your wife. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. I want you to understand clearly that I was indebted to the man in many small ways. I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with—I must confess it—some misgiving. You may perceive harmony, proportion, rhythm, intensely.
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