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Wysłany: Śro 11:46, 23 Mar 2011
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She came to sit calmly at his side, alert and elegant and dangerous,
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, her tawny eyes surveying the room before turning, like his black ones, to the door from the hall as the handle turned. Lyra couldn't see the door, but she heard an intake of breath as the first man came in.
"No. I'll do it myself. Thank you, Thorold. Have they finished dinner yet, Wren?"
With a slight bow, the Butler took the tray and left, and Thorold went with him. As soon as the door closed, Lord Asriel looked across the room directly at the wardrobe, and Lyra felt the force of his glance almost as if it had physical form,
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, as if it were an arrow or a spear. Then he looked away and spoke softly to his dasmon.
"There's plenty of oil, my lord," he said. "Shall I send for a technician to operate it?"
"See? It was worth coming,
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, wasn't it?"
Lord Asriel stood by the fire sipping the last of the coffee and watching darkly as Thorold opened the case of the projecting lantern and uncapped the lens before checking the oil tank.
"Very good, my lord."
"Take it and go."
"Very nearly, I think, my lord," replied the Butler. "If I understand Mr. Cawson aright,
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, the Master and his guests won't be disposed to linger once they know you're here. Shall I take the coffee tray?"
"It might be," Pantalaimon said austerely, in his tiny moth voice. "And it might not."
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