'Don't let's have any calling names.' 'Besides,' said Rekh-mara, who had turned very white indeed under his natural brownness, 'I was only going to say that though there isn't any name under--' 'There IS,' said the Psammead threateningly.
'Well, even if there WASN'T, I will be bound by the wordless oath of your strangely upright land, and having said that I will be your friend--I will be it.' 'Then that's all right,' said the Psammead; 'and there's the tea-bell.
What are you going to do with your distinguished partner?
He can't go down to tea like that, you know.' 'You see we can't do anything till the 3rd of December,' said Anthea, 'that's when we are to find the whole charm.

What can we do with Rekh-mara till then ?' 'Box-room,' said Cyril briefly, 'and smuggle up his meals.

It will be rather fun.' 'Like a fleeing Cavalier concealed from exasperated Roundheads,' said Robert.

'Yes.' So Rekh-mara was taken up to the box-room and made as comfortable as possible in a snug nook between an old nursery fender and the wreck of a big four-poster.

They gave him a big rag-bag to sit on, and an old, moth-eaten fur coat off the nail on the door to keep him warm.