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He divorced her. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. 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. “I wonder what you could do?” he said. "You've got to kill me to get out of here alive. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. It’s a damned hard thing to do.
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