Herbert George Wells

The Invisible Man Herbert George Wells

The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a drivingsnow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railwaystation, and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrappedup from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shinytip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a whitecrest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the "Coach and Horses" more dead thanalive, and flung his portmanteau down. "A fire," he cried, "in the name of human charity! Aroom and a fire!" He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followedMrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, thatand a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn.