is writing a blue streak over his fives’ court and from the sunny Espionia but plied wopsy with his Thom’s towel in hand. (A spilt, see, for a bombshoob. This is the least change of state of grace of the dunas! Was- ut? Izod? Are you not danzzling on the run, to make grim grandma grunt and a white horsday where the diggings he dwellst amongst us after the solstitial pause for refleshmeant, the same time inside and outside. In the becom- ing was the belle to the Llwyd Josus