La Belle Sauvage

warm with amusement and admiration for

twine, string, any kind of cord. But there was nothing of that sort anywhere

With her now so close, he felt more shaken, sadder, more guilty, much older

looked squalid, neglected, overgrown, and

do you mean that the weather’s state of mind is just our state of mind?”
“Nothing is just anything,” the gyptian replied, and would say no more.

“Alice,” he whispered.
“Where’s Asta?” she mumbled through bruised lips. “How…”
“She’s guarding Lyra. We had to sep-separate… ”
“Oh, Mal,” she said, just that, and he felt that all the pain had been worth it.

drenched him with misery.

slippery grass and raised the paddle and brought it down on the man’s back, but feebly, too feebly

seized Alice by the throat.

she’d just sink down into oblivion.