I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. . . A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. You see I am rather obstinate. I must bless him before I die. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her.
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