And,
newport cigarettes, inevitably:
"Let's play kids and Gobblers!"
So said Lyra to Roger, one rainy afternoon when they were alone in the dusty attics. He was her devoted slave by this time; he would have followed her to the ends of the earth.
"How d'you play that?"
"You hide and I find you and slice you open, right, like the Gobblers do."
"You don't know what they do. They might not do that at all."
"You're afraid of 'em,
newports cigarette," she said. "I can tell."
"I en't. I don't believe in 'em anyway."
"I do,
newport 100s," she said decisively. "But I en't afraid either. I'd just do what my uncle done last time he came to Jordan. I seen him. He was in the Retiring Room and there was this guest who weren't polite, and my uncle just give him a hard look and the man fell dead on the spot, with all foam and froth round his mouth."
"He never," said Roger doubtfully. "They never said anything about that in the kitchen. Anyway,
wholesale newport 100s cigarettes, you en't allowed in the Retiring Room."