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d forgotten.”
Then for quite a long time neither said any more.
“Look here,”said the girl presently,“I wonder did we ever really meet before ? I had a sort of idea-a sort of picture in my head-of a boy and a girl,like us-living somewhere quite different-and doing all sorts of things.Perhaps it was only a dream.”
“I’ve had that same dream,I think,”said Digory.“About a boy and a girl,living next door-and something about crawling among rafters.I remember the girl had a dirty face.”
“Aren’t you getting it mixed ? In my dream it was the boy who had the dirty face.”
“I can’t remember the boy’s face,”said Digory:and then added,“Hullo ! What’s that ?”
“Why ! it’s a guinea-pig,”said the girl.And it was-a fat guinea-pig,nosing about in the grass.But round the middle of the guinea—pig there ran a tape,and,tied on to it by the tape, was a bright yellow ring.
“Look ! Look,”cried Digory,“The ring ! And look ! You’ve got one on your finger.And so have