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[kennyli0302i]

The door opened, and the light changed in the room; one of the incomers was carrying a lamp, which he put down on the sideboard. Lyra could see his legs, in their dark green trousers and shiny black shoes. It was a servant.
"What d'you think they talk about?" Lyra said, or began to say,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], because before she'd finished the question she heard voices outside the door.
She sat in one of the green leather armchairs. It was so deep she found herself nearly lying down, but she sat up again and tucked her legs under her to look at the portraits on the walls. More old Scholars, probably; robed,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], bearded, and gloomy, they stared out of their frames in solemn disapproval.
"Happy now? Can we go?" he whispered.
It was the Master. As Lyra held her breath, she saw the servant's daemon (a dog, like all servants' daemons) trot in and sit quietly at his feet, and then the Master's feet became visible too, in the shabby black shoes he always wore.
Then a deep voice said,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "Has Lord Asriel arrived yet?"
It was a large room, with an oval table of polished rosewood on which stood various decanters and glasses, and a silver smoking stand with a rack of pipes. On a sideboard nearby there was a little chafing dish and a basket of poppy heads.
Pantalaimon settled on her shoulder.
"Don't be silly! I want to look around!"
"Behind the chair-quick!" whispered Pantalaimon, and in a flash Lyra was out of the armchair and crouching behind it. It wasn't the best one for hiding behind: she'd chosen one in the very center of the room, and unless she kept very quiet...
"They do themselves well, don't they,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Pan?" she said under her breath.
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[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]