d over, and got to , very, very sloo perform deeds of derring-do and rescue. Still, s. t was back w belonged, back in Life.

    Or so s, till she figurehead.

    It  c all to out.

    Puzzled, soucracing the wood.

    “A kiss,” said Mogget sleepily. “Actually, just a breat you o start kissing someone sometime, I suppose.”

    Sabriel looked at t, est symptom of catbalm-induced lunacy.

    But he seemed sober enough, and serious.

    “A breat  to kiss  just any  be like  remember it, and make assumptions.

    “Like took a deep breatepped back to see w would hing.

    Nothing did.

    “Catbalm!” exclaimed Sabriel, looking at Mogget. “You s—”

    A small sound interrupted  didn’t come from .

    tling bethe issue from an aged, underworked bellows.

    tronger, and , color began to floo ter of fles became flexible, suddenly rising and falling as o pant like a recovering sprinter.

    Sabriel’s. Fine grey eyes, but muzzy and unfocused.  seem to see  sook one step foro Sabriel’s arms.

    Sily to too a sances considerably different t sc from thier and more privileged day-girls.

    “t drunkenly, terribly slurred. o focus on —for t time, and added, “Abhorsen.”

    t to sleep, mout than he did as a fixed-expression figurehead.

    Sabriel looked do rying to ignore curiously fond feelings t o t .

    “I suppose I’d better get ,” santly, as s on earto add tion to  circumstances.

    So get o safety and civilization, at t—if to