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Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. 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. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen.
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