It seemed by contrast with that grey world outside to blaze with colour; the red-painted ships on the wallpaper, the bright lights and shadows of "The Charge of the Light Brigade," the salmon fronts of the doll's house, the green and red of the village on the floor with the flowery trees, the blue tablecloth, the shining brass coal-scuttle all alive and sparkling in the flames and shadows of the fire, caught and held by the fine gold of the higher fender.

Beyond that dead white--soon it would be dark, the curtains would be drawn, and still there would be nothing to do.

He sighed again.
"It's a nice bit about the shop," said Mary.

Jeremy said nothing, so she began.

She started at a run: "She looked at the Queen, who seemed to have '"-- sniff, sniff--",' sud-den-ly suddenly wra-wra-w-r-a-p-p-e-d wrapped--'" "Wrapped ?" asked Jeremy.
"I don't know," said Mary, rubbing her nose, "what it means, but perhaps we'll see presently, herself up in w-o-o-l wool.