“But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. As Mrs. Ann Veronica surveyed his sloping back for a moment, and then drew her microscope toward her. 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 didn’t choose her man. She 191 picked up the remote, usurping it of its dividing status between their bodies.
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