THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON
just as you say; I never have been beyond that field. . . . And these things annoy you?"
For some reason I was beginning to relent towards him. "Not annoy," I said. "But—imagine yourself writing a play!"
"I couldn't."
"Well, anything that needs concentration."
"Ah," he said, "of course," and meditated. His expression became so eloquent of distress that I relented still more. After all there is a touch of aggression in demanding of a man you don't know why he hums on a public footpath.
"You see," he said weakly, "it's a habit."
"Oh, I recognise that."
"I must stop it."
"But not if it puts you out. After all, I had no business—it's something of a liberty."
"Not at all, sir," he said, "not at all. I am greatly indebted to you. I should guard myself against these things. In future I will. Could I trouble you—once again? that noise?"
"Something like this," I said. "Zuzzoo, zuzzoo— But really you know———"
"I am greatly obliged to you. In fact—I know—I am getting absurdly absent-minded. You are quite justified, sir—perfectly justified. Indeed, I am indebted to you. The thing shall end. And now, sir, I have already brought you farther than I should have done."
"I do hope my impertinence———"
"Not at all, sir, not at all."
We regarded each other for a moment. I raised
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