S . tangle of narroreets betic Institute, o t dark maze she hurried now.

    If only sreets to avoid; or  cold nig and secret life, and s.

    Pantalaimon became a  and scanned t-piercing eyes. Every so often op, bristling, and surn aside from trance s to go do s of drunken laugter and ely t all, alaimons, keeping to the narrow alleys.

    From time to time so cross a  street, s, but sook no notice, and wed, she fled.

    It o be free again. S Pantalaimon, padding on  pao be in t  and clangorous ime soon to t ters flat, but not yet. And sometime eventually to find a place to sleep.

    At a crossroads near tment store  pavement, tall: a little  on  s. te-coated oer talking to tomers.

    It empting. Lyra  alaimon a sparroo ter and reaco gain ttention.

    “Cup of coffee and a ham sandwich, please,” she said.

    “Youre out late, my dear,” said a gentleman in a top  and we silk muffler.

    “Yeaurning aersection. A ter nearby  emptying, and croed foyer, calling for cabs, s around tion rance of a Cation, eps.

    “all man. “two shillings.”

    “Let me pay for top .

    Lyra t, er t need all my money later. top-ted man dropped a coin on ter and smiled do her.

    clung to aring round-eyed at Lyra.

    S into  reet. S even knoo find try.

    “s your name?” said the man.

    “Alice.”

    “ts a pretty name. Let me put a drop of to your coffee...warm you up...”

    op of a silver flask.

    “I dont like t,” said Lyra. “I j