By Sunday evening, exhausted, she thought quietly to herself: ‘Sello, after all, is just a fool, and he looks like a monkey.’
She closed her eyes, wearily. There was an instant attack from Medusa. She stood next to brown-suit and said, accusingly, ‘You see, she says you look like a monkey. What are you going to do about it?’
As Elizabeth watched, brown-suit’s face slowly changed to the shape of an owl. He said: ‘Oh, no, I’m not a monkey. I’m a wise old owl.’
She jerked upright in bed. What was this? Did it mean she had no privacy left?