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The Time Machine

Page 78 of 80, printed 78

told you was true. I m sorry to have brought you out here in the cold. He took up the lamp, and, in an absolute silence, we returned to the smoking-room. He came into the hall with us and helped the Editor on with his coat. The Medical Man looked into his face and, with a certain hesitation, told him he was suffering from overwork, at which he laughed hugely. I remember him standing in the open doorway, bawling good-night. I shared a cab with the Editor. He thought the tale a gaudy lie. For my own part I was unable to come to a conclusion. The story was so fantastic and incredible, the telling so credible and sober. I lay awake most of the night thinking about it. I determined to go next day and see the Time Traveller again. I was told he was in the laboratory, and being on easy terms in the house, I went up to him. The laboratory, however, was empty. I stared for a minute at the Time Machine and put out my hand and touched the lever. At that the squat substantial-looking mass swayed like a bough shaken by the wind. Its instability startled me extremely, and I had a queer reminiscence of the childish days when I used to be forbidden to meddle. I came back through the corridor. The Time Traveller met me in the smoking-room. He was coming from the house. He had a small camera under one arm and a knapsack under the other. He laughed when he saw me, and gave me an elbow to shake. I m frightfully busy, said he, with that thing in there. But is it not some hoax? I said. Do you really travel through time? Really and truly I do. And he looked frankly into my eyes. He hesitated. His eye wandered about the room. I only want half an hour, he said. I know why you came, and it s awfully good of you. There s some magazines here. If you ll stop to lunch I ll prove you this time travelling up to the hilt, specimens and all. If you ll forgive my leaving you now? I consented, hardly comprehending then the full import of his words, and he nodded and went on down the corridor. I heard the door of the laboratory slam, seated myself in a chair, and took up a daily paper. What was he going to do before lunch-time? Then suddenly I was reminded by an advertisement that I had promised to meet Richardson, the 78
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