â€˜You can call her a prophetess if you like,â€™ said Cyril, â€˜but what Anthea says is true.â€™
This idea seemed goodâ€”at least it was better than any other which at that moment occurred to anybody, so they followed the priest through the city.
â€˜Ho! does â€˜e indeed,â€™ sneered the merchant. Then he scratched his ear suspiciously, for he was a sharp business man, and he knew the ring of truth when he heard it. His hand was bandaged, and three minutes before he would have been glad to sell the â€˜mangy old monkeyâ€™ for ten shillings. Nowâ€”â€˜Ho! â€˜e does, does â€˜e,â€™ he said, â€˜then two pun tenâ€™s my price. Heâ€™s not got his fellow that monkey ainâ€™t, nor yet his match, not this side of the equator, which he comes from. And the only one ever seen in London. Ought to be in the Zoo. Two pun ten, down on the nail, or hout you goes!â€™
â€˜Sepia,â€™ said Cyril instructively, â€˜is made out of beastly cuttlefish.â€™
â€˜I saw her bower at twilight gray,