You understand that, don't you ?' 'Yes,' said he, absently fingering a little blue image from Egypt.

'I understand that very well.

As you say, there must be some home where she would be welcome.' He scowled thoughtfully at the little blue image.
Anthea outside thought the explanation was taking a very long time.
She was so busy trying to cheer and comfort the little black girl that she never noticed the Psammead who, roused from sleep by her voice, had shaken itself free of sand, and was coming crookedly up the stairs.

It was close to her before she saw it.

She picked it up and settled it in her lap.
'What is it ?' asked the black child.