"That's odd. What’s your name?” He asked in return. 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 seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom.
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