And as the day advanced and the engine drivers and stokers refused to return to London
Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not, and a sense of humor was provided to console him for what he is.
At that I gripped my wife’s arm, and without ceremony ran her out into the road.
We can’t possibly stay here, I said; and as I spoke the firing reopened for a moment upon the common.
The nearer moon, hurtling suddenly above the horizon and lighting up the Barsoomian scene, showed me that my preserver was Woola.
It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected
We can’t possibly stay here, I said; and as I spoke the firing reopened for a moment upon the common. “But where are we to go?” said my wife in terror. I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead.