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. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. He must be gone to dispose of the body. ‘Precisely. He knew she was out there, he could feel it. Abruptly he gripped her wrist.
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