’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. I want to get away—to go to London. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. In one of the big gates was a little door, and she rapped at this. Ann Veronica had come to the Imperial College obsessed by the great figure of Russell, by the part he had played in the Darwinian controversies, and by the resolute effect of the grim-lipped, yellow, leonine face beneath the mane of silvery hair. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation.
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