Why was Lyra so shitty now? Avery pulled a disgruntled face at her and scooped up the bag off the floor, and went to collect three glasses, to set them on the coffee table and pour one out for Lyra.
"Hallowed ground, of course," he said. "Why didn't I think of that?" And he should have really, because he was pretty well informed about ghostly presences. Why hadn't he considered that before? Maybe it was because Lyra had been so fixated on the fairy thing.
She was not looking pleased as he indicated which glass was hers. He had a feeling she might throw it at him if he actually passed it to her. With a gulp, he began rethinking how he was going about this, because even if he agreed with Little John, he had to live with Lyra, and she was his wife. "I mean, if she says that's what she saw, then that's what she saw," he said quickly.