Tales from the White Hart

by Arthur C. Clarke

the only concession to the twentieth century is the juke box in the public bar.

Also, many of our scientists are writers, and not a few of our writers are scientists. Confusing, but we like it that way.

When he indulges in a confidential whisper, it sounds like a sergeant major drilling an entire regiment.

remarkable stories (some of which, we suspect, may be slightly exaggerated)