"Miss Daphne Trilling's," said Mr. Greypoole, gesturing. "They threw it up in a day, though it's solid enough."
When they had passed an elderly woman on a bicycle, Captain Webber stopped walking.
"Mr. Greypoole, we've got to have a talk."
Mr. Greypoole shrugged and pointed and they went into an office building which was crowded with motionless men, women and children.
"Since I'm so mixed up myself," the captain said, "maybe I'd better ask--just who do you think we are?"
"I'd thought you to be the men from the Glades of course."
"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. We're from the planet Earth. They were going to have another war, the 'Last War' they said, and we escaped in that rocket and started off for Mars. But something went wrong--fellow named Appleton pulled a gun, others just didn't like the Martians--we needn't go into it; they wouldn't have us so Mars didn't work out.