THE WAR OF THE WORLDS
Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented.
"The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!" he shouted.
His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of Weybridge.
By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous tragedy in which he had been involved—it was evident he was a fugitive from Weybridge—had driven him to the very verge of his reason.
"Are we far from Sunbury?" I said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"What are we to do?" he asked. "Are these creatures everywhere? Has the earth been given over to them?"
"Are we far from Sunbury?"
"Only this morning I officiated at early celebration—"
"Things have changed," I said, quietly. "You must keep your head. There is still hope."
"Hope!"
"Yes. Plentiful hope—for all this destruction!"
I began to explain my view of our position. He listened at first, but as I went on the interest in his eyes changed to their former stare, and his regard wandered from me.
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