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. Obey my orders, and you've nothing to fear. But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside. You had better go to bed. We’re closer than you think. The door to the room in question was closed. " "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear.
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