She was half expeg questions about where she had e from and how she had arrived, and she reparing answers; but it wasnt only imagination the nurse lacked, it was curiosity as well. Bolvangar might have been oskirts of London, and children might have been arriving all the time, for all the i Sister Clara seemed to show. Her pert little daemon trotted along at her heels just as brisk and blank as she was.
In the room they ehere was a coud a table and two chairs and a filing et, and a glass cupboard with medies and bandages, and a wash basin. As soon as they were ihe ook Lyras outer coat off and dropped it on the shiny floor.
“Off with the rest, dear,” she said. “Well have a quick little look to see youre nid healthy, no frostbite or sniffles, and then well find some nice clothes. Well pop you in the shower, too,” she added, for Lyra had not ged or washed for days, and in the enveloping warmth, that was being more and more evident.
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