A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. "And on my part, I shall not lift a hand to defend myself. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. " Ah Cum shrugged. No— no, it must never be. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark.
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