BOOK TWO: THE EARTH UNDER THE MARTIANS
CHAPTER 1: UNDER FOOT
 
   In the first book I have wandered so much from my own
 adventures to tell of the experiences of my brother that all
 through the last two chapters I and the curate have been
 lurking in the empty house at Halliford whither we fled to
 escape the Black Smoke.  There I will resume.  We stopped
 there all Sunday night and all the next day--the day of the
 panic--in a little island of daylight, cut off by the Black
 Smoke from the rest of the world.  We could do nothing but
 wait in aching inactivity during those two weary days. 
   My mind was occupied by anxiety for my wife.  I figured
 her at Leatherhead, terrified, in danger, mourning me already
 as a dead man.  I paced the rooms and cried aloud when I
 thought of how I was cut off from her, of all that might happen to her in my absence.  My cousin I knew was brave
 enough for any emergency, but he was not the sort of man to
 realise danger quickly, to rise promptly.  What was needed
 now was not bravery, but circumspection.  My only consolation was to believe that the Martians were moving London-ward
 and away from her.  Such vague anxieties keep the mind
 sensitive and painful.  I grew very weary and irritable with
 the curate's perpetual ejaculations; I tired of the sight of his
 selfish despair.  After some ineffectual remonstrance I kept
 away from him, staying in a room--evidently a children's
 schoolroom--containing globes, forms, and copybooks.  When
 he followed me thither, I went to a box room at the top of the
 house and, in order to be alone with my aching miseries,
 locked myself in. 
   We were hopelessly hemmed in by the Black Smoke all
 that day and the morning of the next.  There were signs of
 people in the next house on Sunday evening--a face at a
 window and moving lights, and later the slamming of a door.
 But I do not know who these people were, nor what became
 of them.  We saw nothing of them next day.  The Black Smoke
 drifted slowly riverward all through Monday morning, creeping nearer and nearer to us, driving at last along the roadway
 outside the house that hid us. 
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