” “But if we were?” said Ann Veronica. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. They concern us all. He quickly responded to her kiss and grasped her to him, kissing her deeply. I told him that I was not ‘Alcide. 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. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects.
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