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into their words—they don't get any what I call flavour. There's no bite."
"I want a word—"
"Better go to sleep," said Teddy, his head nodding suddenly again.
"Shan't I ever be able to tell them?" asked Miss Waterlow wistfully.
"Never," said Teddy sleepily. "They've got the wrong words."
Miss Waterlow lay there, wrapt in drowsy and enchanted memories of that golden land to which she could never quite return. She would tell them all about it some day . . . but not now . . . not now . . . not now . . .
She gave a little sigh, and was asleep.
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