The Time Traveler came to the place reserved for him without a word. He smiled quietly, in his old way.
"Where's my mutton?" he said. "What a treat it is to stick a fork into meat again!"
"Story!" cried the Editor.
"Story be d——d!" said the Time Traveler. "I want something to eat. I won't say a word until I get some peptone into my arteries. Thanks! And the salt."
"One word," said I. "Have you been time traveling?"
"Yes," said the Time Traveler, with his mouth full, nodding his head.
"I'd give a shilling a line for a verbatim note," said the Editor. The Time Traveler pushed his glass toward the Silent Man and rang it with his finger nail; at which the Silent Man, who had been staring at his face, started convulsively, and poured him wine. The rest of the dinner was uncomfortable. For my
