{"product_id":"2940013706385","title":"Random Harvest","description":"On the morning of the eleventh of November, 1937, precisely at\u003cbr\u003eeleven o'clock, some well-meaning busybody consulted his watch and\u003cbr\u003eloudly announced the hour, with the result that all of us in the\u003cbr\u003edining-car felt constrained to put aside drinks and newspapers and\u003cbr\u003espend the two minutes' silence in rather embarrassed stares at one\u003cbr\u003eanother or out of the window.  Not that anyone had intended\u003cbr\u003edisrespect--merely that in a fast-moving train we knew no rules for\u003cbr\u003ecorrect behaviour and would therefore rather not have behaved at\u003cbr\u003eall.  Anyhow, it was during those tense uneasy seconds that I first\u003cbr\u003etook notice of the man opposite.  Dark-haired, slim, and austerely\u003cbr\u003egood-looking, he was perhaps in his early or middle forties; he\u003cbr\u003ewore an air of prosperous distinction that fitted well with his\u003cbr\u003eneat but quiet standardized clothes.  I could not guess whether he\u003cbr\u003ehad originally moved in from a third- or a first-class compartment.\u003cbr\u003elf a million Englishmen are like that.  Their inconspicuous\u003cbr\u003ecorrectness makes almost a display of concealment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs he looked out of the window I saw something happen to his eyes--\u003cbr\u003ea change from a glance to a gaze and then from a gaze to a glare, a\u003cbr\u003esudden sharpening of focus, as when a person thinks he recognizes\u003cbr\u003esomeone fleetingly in a crowd.  Meanwhile a lurch of the train\u003cbr\u003espilled coffee on the table between us, providing an excuse for\u003cbr\u003eapologies as soon as the two minutes were over; I got in with mine\u003cbr\u003efirst, but by the time he turned to reply the focus was lost, his\u003cbr\u003elook of recognition unsure.  Only the embarrassment remained, and\u003cbr\u003eto ease it I made some comment on the moorland scenery, which was\u003cbr\u003eindeed somberly beautiful that morning, for overnight snow lay on\u003cbr\u003ethe summits, and there was one of them, twin-domed, that seemed to\u003cbr\u003ekeep pace with the train, moving over the intervening valley like a\u003cbr\u003eghostly camel.  \"That's Mickle,\" I said, pointing to it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSurprisingly he answered:  \"Do you know if there's a lake--quite a\u003cbr\u003esmall lake--between the peaks?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwo men at the table across the aisle then intervened with the\u003cbr\u003einstant garrulousness of those who overhear a question put to\u003cbr\u003esomeone else.  They were also, I think, moved by a common desire to\u003cbr\u003etalk down an emotional crisis, for the entire dining-car seemed\u003cbr\u003esuddenly full of chatter.  One said there WAS such a lake, if you\u003cbr\u003ecalled it a lake, but it was really more of a swamp; and the other\u003cbr\u003esaid there wasn't any kind of lake at all, though after heavy rain\u003cbr\u003eit might be \"a bit soggy\" up there, and then the first man agreed\u003cbr\u003ethat maybe that was so, and presently it turned out that though\u003cbr\u003ethey were both Derbyshire men, neither had actually climbed Mickle\u003cbr\u003esince boyhood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe listened politely to all this and thanked them, glad to let the\u003cbr\u003ematter drop.  Nothing more was said till they left the train at\u003cbr\u003eLeicester; then I leaned across the table and said:  \"It doesn't\u003cbr\u003epay to argue with local inhabitants, otherwise I'd have answered\u003cbr\u003eyour question myself--because I was on top of Mickle yesterday.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA gleam reappeared in his eyes.  \"YOU were?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes, I'm one of those eccentric people who climb mountains for fun\u003cbr\u003eall the year round.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So you saw the lake?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There wasn't a lake or a swamp or a sign of either.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ah. . . .\"  And the gleam faded.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You sound disappointed?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Well, no--hardly that.  Maybe I was thinking of somewhere else.\u003cbr\u003eI'm afraid I've a bad memory.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For mountains?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For names too.  MICKLE, did you say it was?\"  He spoke the word as\u003cbr\u003eif he were trying the sound of it.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47156001538288,"sku":"2940013706385","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013706385_p0.jpg?v=1763584606","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013706385","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}