"Tell you presently," said the Time Traveler. "I'm—funny! Be all right in a minute."
He put down his glass, and walked toward the staircase door. Again I remarked his lameness and the soft padding sound of his footfall, and standing up in my place I saw his feet as he went out. He had nothing on them but a pair of tattered, blood-stained socks. Then the door closed upon him. I had half a mind to follow, till I remembered how he detested any fuss about himself. For a minute, perhaps, my mind was wool gathering. Then, "Remarkable Behavior of an Eminent Scientist," I heard the Editor say, thinking (after his wont) in headlines. And this brought my attention back to the bright dinner table.
"What's the game?" said the Journalist. "Has he been doing the Amateur Cadger? I don't follow."
I met the eye of the Psychologist, and read my own interpretation in