And let us go on with our evening. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Day after day for a measured hour in the lecture-theatre, with elaborate power and patience, Russell pieced together difficulty and suggestion, instance and counter-instance, in the elaborate construction of the family tree of life.
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