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. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. He beamed as she whispered to 22 him that she had seen a table so fine or tasted such wonders. ‘Come, mademoiselle.
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