The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. 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 don’t know where to go to. ” “The faults are the best part of it,” said Ann Veronica; “why, even our little vicious strains run the same way. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry.
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