"Nothing," I said, feeling awfully ashamed of myself.

He scrutinised my face with wild and withering contempt.
"Just so," he said, "but if I were to look I could see--there's no eyes like mine, I tell you." Again he clawed, pulling at me downwards in his eagerness to relieve himself by a confidential communication.

"Millions of pink toads.

There's no eyes like mine.

Millions of pink toads.