“My bungalow stared across the flats of Romney Marsh at the sea”. The view from the Roughs near Lympne in Kent, across Romney Marsh towards the English Channel.
I AM a man who believes in impulses. I made what was perhaps a rash proposition. But you must remember, that my compunction for his ruined walk still hung about me.
“Why not,” said I, “make this your new habit? In the place of the one I spoilt?
“What you want is to turn over your work in your mind. That you have always done during your afternoon walk. Unfortunately that’s over — you can’t get things back as they were.
“But why not come and talk about your work to me; use me as a sort of wall against which you may throw your thoughts and catch them again?
“It’s certain I don’t know enough to steal your ideas myself — and I know no scientific men — ”
I stopped. He was considering. Evidently, the thing attracted him. “Of course it would be a great help to me. Nothing clears up one’s ideas so much as explaining them.”
Précis
Mr Bedford’s concentration has been disturbed by Professor Cavor’s maddening habit of humming as he walks by each afternoon. He soon regrets complaining, however, after learning that Cavor’s walks have lost their magic and his scientific research is suffering. So to make amends he offers to listen to Cavor think aloud, and the professor readily agrees. (56 / 60 words)
