The Second Thoughts of an Idle Fellow by Jerome K. Jerome

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I was pacing the Euston platform late one winter's night, waiting for the last train to Watford, when I noticed a man cursing an automatic machine. Twice he shook his fist at it. I expected every moment to see him strike it. Naturally curious, I drew near softly. I wanted to catch what he was saying. However, he heard my approaching footsteps, and turned on me. "Are you the man," said he, "who was here just now?"

"Just where? " I replied. I had been pacing up and down the platform for about five minutes.

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