'But there must have been many faces—all alike—'
'Not all alike. Each was different from the rest.'
'Still, it must have been vely clever to tell. I can hardly conceive any face, except yours and mine.'
'Ah, because you are a little goose, you see.'
'What was a goose like?'
'It was a thing like a butterfly, only larger, and it kept its toes always spread out, with a skin stretched between.'
'Leally? How caplicious! And am I like that?—but what were you saying that your lover, Clodagh, was?'
'She was a Poisoner.'
'Then why call me Clodagh, since I am not a poisoner?'
'I call you so to remind me: lest you—lest you—should become my—lover, too.'