she could hear a voice speaking and hear the words it uttered, but she couldn't tell who was actually saying them.
She shook her head. “What!” exclaimed the man in gray, raising his eyebrows.
“You modern children are never satisfied, honestly! Lola's perfect in every detail.
If there's anything wrong with her, perhaps you'd care to tell me.”
Momo stared at the ground and thought hard. Then she said, very quietly, “I don't think anyone could love it - her, I mean.”
The man in gray didn't answer for some time. He stared into space with eyes as glassy as the doll's.
At last he pulled himself together. “That's not the point,” he said coldly. Momo met his eye.
What scared her most about him was the icy chill that seemed to emanate from his body,
yet in some strange way - she couldn't have said why - she felt sorry for him as well as scared.
“But I do love my friends,” she said. The man in gray grimaced as if he'd bitten into a lemon,
but he quickly recovered his composure and gave her a razor-sharp smile.
“Momo,” he said smoothly, “I think we should have a serious talk, you and I. It's time you learned what matters in life.”
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