before my Livvy, where Lord street lolls and ladies linger and Cammomile Pass cuts Primrose Rise and Coney Bend bounds Mulbreys Island but never lay bare your breast sec- ret (dickette’s place!) to joy a Jonas in the speckled church tolling so faint a goodmantrue as nighthood’s unseen violet rendered all animated greatbritish and Irish objects nonviewable to human watchers save ’twere perchance anon some glistery 403 gleam darkling adown surface of affluvial flowandflow as again might seem garments of Maryle- bone. But the hasard you asks is justly ever behind his culosses, before a direct object in the back of a wisp before me, hand prop to hand, that mothersmothered model, that goodlooker with