If only the doll had remained silent, she could have supplied the answers herself and held an interesting conversation with it.
As it was, the very fact that it could talk made conversation impossible.
Before long, Momo was overcome by a sensation so entirely new to her that she took quite a while to recognize it as plain boredom.
Although her inclination was to abandon Lola, the Living Doll, and play some other game, she couldn't for some reason tear herself away.
So there she sat, gazing at the doll, and the doll, with its glassy blue eyes fixed on hers, gazed back. It was as if they had hypnotized each other.
When, at long last, Momo did manage to drag her eyes away from the doll, she gave a little start of surprise.
Parked close by, not that she had heard it drive up, stood a smart gray car.
In it sat a man wearing a suit as gray as a spider's web and a stiff, round bowler hat of the same colour.
He was smoking a small gray cigar, and his face, too, was as gray as ashes.
He must have been watching Momo for some time because he nodded and smiled at her;
and although the day was so hot that the air was dancing in the sunlight, Momo suddenly began to shiver.
The man opened the car door and came over, carrying a steel-gray briefcase.
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