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In London

           WeheardgunsfiringatHamptonCourtstation,butwethoughtitwasthunder. Whatthedickensdoesitallmean? TheMartianscan’tgetoutoftheirpit,canthey?" 

           Mybrothercouldnottellhim. 

           Afterwardshefoundthatthevaguefeelingofalarmhadspreadtotheclientsoftheundergroundrailway,andthattheSundayexcursionistsbegantoreturnfromallovertheSouth-Western"lung" Barnes,Wimbledon,RichmondPark,Kew,andsoforthatunnaturallyearlyhours; butnotasoulhadanythingmorethanvaguehearsaytotellof. Everyoneconnectedwiththeterminusseemedill-tempered. 

           Aboutfiveo’clockthegatheringcrowdinthestationwasimmenselyexcitedbytheopeningofthelineofcommunication,whichisalmostinvariablyclosed,betweentheSouth-EasternandtheSouth-Westernstations,andthepassageofcarriagetrucksbearinghugegunsandcarriagescrammedwithsoldiers. ThesewerethegunsthatwerebroughtupfromWoolwichandChathamtocoverKingston. Therewasanexchangeofpleasantries: "You’llgeteaten!""We’rethebeast-tamers!"andsoforth. Alittlewhileafterthatasquadofpolicecameintothestationandbegantoclearthepublicofftheplatforms,andmybrotherwentoutintothestreetagain. 

           Thechurchbellswereringingforevensong,andasquadofSalvationArmylassiescamesingingdownWaterlooRoad. Onthebridgeanumberofloaferswerewatchingacuriousbrownscumthatcamedriftingdownthestreaminpatches. Thesunwasjustsetting,andtheClockTowerandtheHousesofParliamentroseagainstoneofthemostpeacefulskiesitispossibletoimagine,askyofgold,barredwithlongtransversestripesofreddish-purplecloud. 

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Roboto Lora
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