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. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity.
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