“Nothing so base. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. . When she spoke, her lips twitched. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon.
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