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| | Chapter Three: The Days of Imprisonment. Wells, H.G. 1898. The War of the Worlds |
 | | As I looked, the handling-machine, with a faint and musical clinking, extended, telescopic fashion, a tentacle that had been a moment before a mere blunt projection, until its end was hidden behind the mound of clay. |
 | | In another second it had lifted a bar of white aluminium into sight, untarnished as yet, and shining dazzlingly, and deposited it in a growing stack of bars that stood at the side of the pit. |
 | | Then somethingsomething struggling violentlywas lifted high against the sky, a fl, vague enigma against the starlight; and as this fl object came down again, I saw by the green brightness that it was a man. For an instant he was clearly visible. |
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