And noting next to talaimons stle ermine pao  paed against ter sat  s talked. Suc talk! Lyra oxicated; not about time, but about London, and taurants and ballrooms, t embassies or ministries, trigues beter. Lyra  more fascinated by t Mrs. Coulter o be accompanied by a scent of grourbing but enticing at time: it he smell of glamour.

    * * * t ride across t  commissionaire (a sort of porter ed Mrs. Coulter and  Lyra, who sized him up expressionlessly.

    And t...

    Lyra could only gasp.

    S deal of beauty in  life, but it y, Oxford beauty—grand and stony and masculine. In Jordan College, muc, but notty. In Mrs. Coulters flat, everytty. It riped  frames, an antique looking-glass, fanciful sconces bearing anbaric lamps oo, and floain rail, and a soft green leaf-pattern carpet underfoot; and every surface  seemed to Lyras innocent eye, ty little china boxes and shepherdesses and harlequins of porcelain.

    Mrs. Coulter smiled at ion.

    “Yes, Lyra,” s to sake your coat off and Ill take you to then well have some lunch and go shopping....”

    to  struggled out of taps  best, and often flecked . But er , to. And around tinted mirror ttle pink lig  sly illuminated figure quite unlike the Lyra she knew.

    Pantalaimon, ing ters daemon, crouc o ter and suddenly remembered ter in  pocket. S t on a cer to keep it secret from Mrs. Coulter....

    Oer er trying to poison Uncle Asriel.  obedience to?

    Sily and o tting room, ill lay untouched, of