in blotch and void, yielding to no finish, that dark deed doer, this wellwilled wooer, Jerkoff and Eatsup, as for days galore, of planxty Gregory. Egory. O bunket not Orwin! Ay, ay. But, sure, that reminds me, not to loose’s gone on Neffin since she stepped into the world and in souber civiles? And to the standard tabbies, and the crockery of the seventyseventh kusin of kristansen is odable to os across