Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 6.pdf/31

 "Well, I enjoy the sunlight—the atmosphere. I go along this path, through that gate"—he jerked his head over his shoulder—"and round"

"You don't. You never have been. It's all nonsense. There isn't a way. To-night for instance"

"Oh! to-night! Let me see. Ah! I just glanced at my watch, saw that I had already been out just three minutes over the precise half hour, decided there was not time to go round, turned"

"You always do."

He looked at me, reflected. "Perhaps I do—now I come to think of it But what was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"Why—this!"

"This?"

"Yes. Why do you do it? Every night you come making a noise"

"Making a noise?"

"Like this." I imitated his buzzing noise. He looked at me and it was evident the buzzing awakened distaste. "Do I do that?" he asked.

"Every blessed evening."

"I had no idea."

He stopped. He regarded me gravely. "Can it be," he said, "that I have formed a habit?"

"Well, it looks like it. Doesn't it?"

He pulled down his lower lip between finger and thumb. He regarded a puddle at his feet.

"My mind is much occupied," he said. "And you want to know why! Well, sir, I can assure you that not only do I not know why I do these things, but I did not even know I did them. Come to think, it is