“Come in quickly,” s able. Dont stand out in t is your name ?”

    any accent Lyra could name.  of people s at Mrs. Coulters: smart and educated and important.

    “Lizzie Brooks,” she said.

    “Come in, Lizzie. ell look after you  worry.”

    side for far longer; ient to be in to play sloted and reluctant, and dragged  as sepped over to the building.

    t not too mucering in w seemed unbearable , and o pull open her furs and push back her hood.

    t eig square, o t and left, and in front of  of reception desk you migal. Everytly lit,  of se surfaces and stainless steel. t a faint perpetual al-medical smell; and coming from t  too loo  of sound you o get used to or go mad.

    Pantalaimon at upid and dim. Be really sloupid.”

    Adults   e coat, a woman in a nurses uniform.

    “Englis man raders, apparently.”

    “Usual ers? Usual story?”

    “Same tribe, as far as I could tell. Sister Clara, could you take little, umm, and see to her?”

    “Certainly, Doctor. Come ly followed.

    t along a s corridor  and a canteen on t, from  as old as Mrs. Coulter, Lyra guessed, o stitc never to tell a story.  of strange ciced) tle rotting dog (and after a moment s had chilled her).

    “s your name, dear?” said t Lizzie?” “Lizzie Brooks.” “And how old are you?” “Eleven.”

    Lyra old t sever t meant. It ed ance, but s s noo make Lizzie s, and stle as s into the room.