od in silence.

    For , Lyra tle surprised to find t t  ter  said a man, and trange er all. tting at an engine t displayed figures and s of   on grimy little blocks in an ivory tray. tapped one, and the screen became blank.

    quot;; she said.

    Lyra s t ter old ried  to do ruth.

    quot;Lyra Silvertongue,quot; s;s your name?quot;

    te ties, Lyra supposed, pertle older than Mrs.

    Coulter,  black e coat open over a green s and trousers so many people his world.

    At Lyras question t;ell, youre ted ts oday. Im Dr. Mary Malone.  do you ?quot;

    quot;I  you to tell me about Dust,quot; said Lyra, o make sure they were alone.

    quot;I kno it. I can prove it. You got to tell me.quot;

    quot;Dust?  are you talking about?quot;

    quot;You mig call it t. Its elementary particles. In my  Rusakov Particles, but normally t Dust. t s t of space and fix on people. Not cly on gro today—I  museum doartars make, and t more Dust around t  got t sort of . ;

    t her wide-eyed.

    quot;t kno five t; she said.

    quot;A it e t label. t skull y-t;

    Sopped t to faint. t ely; s one o  wche arm of her chair, and her jaw dropped.

    Lyra stood, stubborn and puzzled, ing for o recover.

    quot;; t last.

    quot;Lyra Silver—quot;

    quot;No, w are you? ;

    earily Lyra sigten  Sc  to tell truto understand.

    quot;I come from anot; s;And in t , and ts w;

    quot;ait, , . You come from w;

    quot;From som