My wife was curiously silent throughout the drive, and seemed
oppressed with forebodings of evil.  I talked to her reassuringly,
pointing out that the Martians were tied to the Pit by sheer
heaviness, and at the utmost could but crawl a little out of it; but
she answered only in monosyllables.  Had it not been for my promise to
the innkeeper, she would, I think, have urged me to stay in
Leatherhead that night.  Would that I had!  Her face, I remember, was
very white as we parted.