I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. “I can’t endure it,” she said. 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. No need to do such things. I’m not a lovesick boy.
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