against the pale yellow of the sky.

'Weena had been hugely delighted when I began to carry her, but

after a while she desired me to let her down, and ran along by the

side of me, occasionally darting off on either hand to pick flowers

to stick in my pockets. My pockets had always puzzled Weena, but at

the last she had concluded that they were an eccentric kind of vase

for floral decoration. At least she utilized them for that purpose.

And that reminds me! In changing my jacket I found...'

The Time Traveller paused, put his hand into his pocket, and

silently placed two withered flowers, not unlike very large white

mallows, upon the little table. Then he resumed his narrative.

'As the hush of evening crept over the world and we proceeded over

the hill crest towards Wimbledon, Weena grew tired and wanted to

return to the house of grey stone. But I pointed out the distant

pinnacles of the Palace of Green Porcelain to her, and contrived to

make her understand that we were seeking a refuge there from her

Fear. You know that great pause that comes upon things before the

dusk? Even the breeze stops in the trees. To me there is always an

air of expectation about that evening stillness. The sky was clear,

remote, and empty save for a few horizontal bars far down in the

sunset. Well, that night the expectation took the colour of my

fears. In that darkling calm my senses seemed preternaturally

sharpened. I fancied I could even feel the hollowness of the ground

The Time Machine