NINETEEN - LYRA AND HER DEATH
among toreets, no squares, and no open spaces except ood above t, tico o its columns. Betone buildings, a mazy clutter of sies toget of lengtimber, beaten-out petrol cans or biscuit tins, torn plastic sing,
scraps of plywood or hardboard.
ts oion came more of t t trickle tos raigo toly o follo topped.
A figure stepped out of a patc;ait, .quot;
A dim lig easy to make out ures; but t a g. attered business suit, and ogetepped out of oms post on a rarely visited frontier.
quot; is t; said ill, quot;And ;
quot;Youre not dead,quot; said t;You o in to t and give to t te.quot;
quot;But excuse me, sir,quot; said Lyra, quot;I mind me asking, but dead? Because t it?quot;
quot;Its a suburb of times take, but to in t;
quot;ait for ;
quot;Until t;
ill felt to argue, and before s;Can you just explain o;
quot;No, no,quot; said t;t a port of transit. t.quot;
quot;o?quot; said ill.
quot;ts not sometell you,quot; said tter smile pulled t;You must move along, please. You must go to t;
ill took t, and then held Lyras arm and urged her away.
tialys explained t to rest; so t t on alaimon, leopard-s t rack, skirting tcies and tcream of gs arriving and passing o toself.
quot;eve got to get over ter, like t of t; said ill. quot;And maybe tell us seem to be angry anys strange. And t;
torn from a notebook, . It ing to see all looked so real.
It ting darker a