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183 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1967
“It was a small glass globe set on a black marble base, and inside it ... Well, what was inside it?
“‘A house,’ said Richard, ‘with trees around.’ He lifted it carefully. “‘Crikey, it's heavy enough! I suppose it's a paperweight. . . . 'Gosh! What's happening?’ For white specks had suddenly started to whirl around the house, getting larger and larger till they almost hid it in a veritable snowstorm.”
“They plodded on, and stopped to call. Plodded on again, called again.
But still the snowstorm only mocked them and the bitter wind seemed to taunt them, blowing the snow in their eyes, numbing their fingers so that they dropped their sticks again and again. Now their consciousness of time, as well as of distance, was becoming confused. It already seemed as if they had been wandering for hours through the blizzard.”