Lyra moaned and trembled untrollably, just as if she had been pulled out of water so cold that her heart had nearly frozen. Pantalaimon simply lay against her bare skin, inside her clothes, loving her back to herself, but aware all the time of Mrs. Coulter, busy preparing a drink of something, and most of all of the golden monkey, whose hard little fingers had run swiftly over Lyras body when only Pantalaimon could have noticed; and who had felt, around her waist, the oilskin pouch with its tents.
“Sit up, dear, and drink this,” said Mrs. Coulter, and her gentle arm slipped around Lyras bad lifted her.
Lyra ched herself, but relaxed almost at once as Pantalaimon thought to her:
Were only safe as long as we pretend. She opened her eyes and found that theyd been taining tears, and to her surprise and shame she sobbed and sobbed.
Mrs. Coulter made sympathetic sounds and put the drink into the monkeys hands while she mopped Lyras eyes with a sted handkerc……（内容加载失败！）
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