Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. “Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. 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. Well, this is OUR thing. He addressed the boy as Jay. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag.
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