The man himself was not a pleasant object. 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. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. "Pick up that blade, Nab," vociferated Wild, finding himself hotly pressed, "and stab him. We shall never have an heir, you and I! My family is crumbling; all of my brothers are dead. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. I dare say it will be chattered about for weeks. And if he would, I would not subject him to the annoyance.
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