“But she need never know，” said the Witch， speaking more sweetly than you would have thought anyone with so fierce a face could speak. “You wouldn’t tell her how you‘d got the apple. Your Father need never know. No one in your world need know anything about this whole story. You needn’t take the little girl back with you， you know.”
That was where the Witch made her fatal mistake. Of course Digory knew that Polly could get away by her own ring as easily as he could get away by his. But apparently the Witch didn‘t know this. And the meanness of the suggestion that he should leave Polly behind suddenly made all the other things the Witch had been saying to him sound false and hollow. And even in the midst of all his misery， his head suddenly cleared， and he said （in a different and much louder voice）：
“Look here； where do you come into all this？ Why are you so precious fond of my Mother all of a sudden？ What’s it got to do with you？ What‘s your game？”
“Good for you， Digs，” whispered Polly in his ear. “Quick！ Get away now.” She hadn’t dared to say anything all through the argument because， you see， it wasn‘t her Mother who was dying.