10
“To think,” he cried, “you are ten years younger
than I! . . . There are times when you make me feel a
little thing at your feet —a young, silly, protected thing.
Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your
birth certificate; a forgery —and fooling at that. You
are one of the Immortals. Immortal! You were in
the beginning, and all the men in the world who have
known what love is have worshipped at your feet. You
have converted me to —Lester Ward! You are my dear
friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments
when my head has been on your breast, when your heart
has been beating close to my ears, when I have known
you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your
slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the
joy of being killed by you. You are the High Priestess
of Life. . . .”
“Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly.
“A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all
until she came to you.”
