“Unbusheling?” “We are man’s marvellous light? Oh, no, you wouldn’t—the English slang’s biblical, obviously, and the French say déclipser. Their idea of a pun. In Punjabi it’s got nothing to do with light, it’s either a snakeskin being shed or the tide going out, depending on where you are—” “Stop,” said Robin. This really was like being back at university. “I beg you, Miss Morrissey. Pretend I’m very stupid. Small words.” “Unbusheling. A revelation of magic.” Miss Morrissey looked apologetic. “Perhaps I’ll fetch that tea?” “Tea,” said Robin with relief. “Just the thing.”
