Then he would come along the laboratory, sitting down by each student in turn, checking the work and discussing its difficulties, and answering questions arising out of Russell’s lecture. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. So he liked to go by a different train.
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