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’
Certainly
,
but
neither
does
mine
look
like
a
wet
hedgehog
.
’
’
Pray
note
that
my
chest
does
not
appear
to
be
a
toast
rack
in
a
wet
paper
bag
.
’
Mort
glanced
sideways
at
the
top
of
Ysabell
’
s
dress
,
which
contained
enough
puppy
fat
for
two
litters
of
Rotweilers
,
and
forbore
to
comment
.
’
My
eyebrows
don
’
t
look
like
a
pair
of
mating
caterpillars
,
’
he
hazarded
.
True
.
But
my
legs
,
I
suggest
,
could
at
least
stop
a
pig
in
a
passageway
.
’
’
Sorry
—
?
’
’
They
’
re
not
bandy
,
’
she
explained
.
’
Ah
.
’
They
strolled
through
the
lily
beds
,
temporarily
lost
for
words
.
Eventually
Ysabell
confronted
Mort
and
stuck
out
her
hand
.
He
shook
it
in
thankful
silence
.
’
Enough
?
’
she
said
.
