And just as the Witch Jadis had looked different when you saw her in our world instead of in her own， so the fruit of that mountain garden looked different too. There were of course all sorts of coloured things in the bedroom； the coloured counterpane on the bed， the wallpaper， the sunlight from the window， and Mother’s pretty， pale blue dressing jacket. But the moment Digory took the Apple out of his pocket， all those things seemed to have scarcely any colour at all. Everyone of them， even the sunlight， looked faded and dingy. The brightness of the Apple threw strange lights on the ceiling. Nothing else was worth looking at： you couldn‘t look at anything else. And the smell of the Apple of Youth was as if there was a window in the room that opened on Heaven.
“Oh， darling， how lovely，” said Digory’s Mother. “You will eat it， won‘t you？ Please，” said Digory.
“I don’t know what the Doctor would say，” she answered. “But really.I almost feel as if I could.”
