“Only just, not too much. Can you?”
“I can't see your nose. Shall I get the candle?”
“No—that'd spoil it. What are you sitting on?”
“The window sill.”
“It doesn't twist your neck, does it?”
“No—o—only a little bit.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Wait half a shake. I'll let down some chocolate in my big bath towel; it'll swing along to you—reach out.”
A dim white arm reached out.