Lyra. Chapter 3. How a Knight Holds an Umbrella
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She handed him the umbrella and he took it the only way his hands knew how — by the grip, point up, two-handed, like a blade he was about to test. He turned it over with grave concentration, this slim painted thing, looking for its edge, its purpose, its danger. There was none he could find, and that troubled him more. Lyra sat back and did not explain. Some things are better watched than told.
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