I was tired out with all your silly wishes, and I felt as though I hadn't really been to sand for a year.' 'To sand ?' Jane repeated.
'Where I sleep.

You go to bed.

I go to sand.' Jane yawned; the mention of bed made her feel sleepy.
'All right,' said the Psammead, in offended tones.

'I'm sure _I_ don't want to tell you a long tale.

A man caught me, and I bit him.