Машина часу

           atlast,oflyingonthegroundnearthesphinxandweepingwithabsolutewretchedness. Ihadnothingleftbutmisery. ThenIslept,andwhenIwokeagainitwasfullday,andacoupleofsparrowswerehoppingroundmeontheturfwithinreachofmyarm. 

           ‘Isatupinthefreshnessofthemorning,tryingtorememberhowIhadgotthere,andwhyIhadsuchaprofoundsenseofdesertionanddespair. Thenthingscameclearinmymind. Withtheplain,reasonabledaylight,Icouldlookmycircumstancesfairlyintheface. Isawthewildfollyofmyfrenzyovernight,andIcouldreasonwithmyself. "Supposetheworst?"Isaid. "Supposethemachinealtogetherlost—perhapsdestroyed? Itbehoovesmetobecalmandpatient,tolearnthewayofthepeople,togetaclearideaofthemethodofmyloss,andthemeansofgettingmaterialsandtools; sothatintheend,perhaps,Imaymakeanother. "Thatwouldbemyonlyhope,perhaps,butbetterthandespair. And,afterall,itwasabeautifulandcuriousworld. 

           ‘Butprobably,themachinehadonlybeentakenaway. Still,Imustbecalmandpatient,finditshiding-place,andrecoveritbyforceorcunning. AndwiththatIscrambledtomyfeetandlookedaboutme,wonderingwhereIcouldbathe. Ifeltweary,stiff,andtravel-soiled. Thefreshnessofthemorningmademedesireanequalfreshness. Ihadexhaustedmyemotion. Indeed,asIwentaboutmybusiness,Ifoundmyselfwonderingatmyintenseexcitementovernight. Imadeacarefulexaminationofthegroundaboutthelittlelawn. Iwastedsometimeinfutilequestionings,conveyed,aswellasIwasable,tosuchofthelittlepeopleascameby. Theyallfailedtounderstandmygestures; someweresimplystolid,somethoughtitwasajestandlaughedatme.