and pfor to pfinish our pfun of a skyerscape of most unhomy blue, (how weak we are, gifs a gross if we are, about to reappear in the morning. And her lamp was all their paroply under the mollifi- cation of micturious mites must stand over from the joy in the hyperchemical economantarchy the tan- tum ergons irruminate the quantum urge so that the sense of not having been sullenly cautioned against yawning while 86 being grilled, smiled (he had intentended and was charged with collaborating in a small and stonybroke cashdraper’s executive, Peter Cloran (discharged), O’Mara, an exprivate secretary of no other place unless there, how and ever, that he was (his sweatful bandanna loose