“What can one say?” she exclaimed. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. " "You'd better take care of your mother's son instead," rejoined Blueskin. 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. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. I feel that I shall stifle unless I can do something—and do something soon.
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