of the manhole, and looked
down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was
evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon
everything.

I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of
the sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other impedimenta
from Cavor. The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at eighty, and as
we should lose little or none of this by radiation, we were dressed in
shoes and thin flannels. We had, however, a bundle of thick woollen
clothing and several thick blankets to guard against mischance.

By Cavor's direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, and
so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He walked
about the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had overlooked, and
then crawled in after me. I noted something in his hand.

"What have you got there?" I asked.

"Haven't you brought anything to read?"

"Good Lord! No."

"I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties-- The voyage may last--
We may be weeks!"

"But--"

"We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no occupation."

"I wish I'd known--"

He peered out of the manhole. "Look!" he said. "There's something
there!"

"Is there time?"

"We shall be an hour."

I looked out. It was an old number of _Tit-Bits_ that one of the men must
have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn _Lloyd's News_. I
scrambled back into the sphere with these things. "What have you got?" I
said.

I took the book from his hand and read, "The Works of William
Shakespeare".

He coloured slightly. "My education has been so purely scientific--"
he said apologetically.

"Never read him?"

"Never."

"He knew a little, you know--in an irregular sort of way."

"Precisely what I am told," said Cavor.

I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he
pressed a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The
little oblong of twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time
neither of us spoke. Although our case would not be impervious to sound,
everything was very still. I perceived there was nothing to grip when the
shock of our start should come, and I realised that I should be
uncomfortable for want of a chair.

"Why have we no chairs?" I asked.

"I've settled all that," said Cavor. "We won't need them."

"Why not?"

"You will see," he said, in the tone of a man wh