I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. E. Ruth read: DEAR SIR: "We are delighted to accept these four stories, particularly 'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. The villagers were thronging to church. But don’t think your heroic milice will save you.
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