THE TIME MACHINE

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as if he had been dazzled by the light. Then he came into the room.
He walked with just such a limp as I have seen in footsore tramps.
We stared at him in silence, expecting him to speak.

He said not a word, but came painfully to the table, and made a
motion towards the wine. The Editor filled a glass of champagne, and
pushed it towards him. He drained it, and it seemed to do him good:
for he looked round the table, and the ghost of his old smile
flickered across his face. 'What on earth have you been up to, man?'
said the Doctor. The Time Traveller did not seem to hear. 'Don't let
me disturb you,' he said, with a certain faltering articulation.
'I'm all right.' He stopped, held out his glass for more, and took
it off at a draught. 'That's good,' he said. His eyes grew brighter,
and a faint colour came into his cheeks. His glance flickered over
our faces with a certain dull approval, and then went round the warm
and comfortable room. Then he spoke again, still as it were feeling
his way among his words. 'I'm going to wash and dress, and then I'll