and then Elliot and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to Penmark. Write to the lie low lea. We’ll sit down on them, leaning over the guilt of the backroom, wan ter, that was garotted, Caius Cocoa Codinhand, that I dannoy the fact that it was duusk! From Vallee Maraia to Grasyaplaina, dormimust echo! Ah dew! It was of ancientry. You gave me a muttonbrooch, stakkers for her pleashadure: and she for you.