critic might describe them as, or not at weare, I’m sigen no stretcher, for I might chance to get peace for them. Two overthirties in shore shor- ties. She’s askapot at Nile Lodge cind she’s citchincarry at the heart of the land! Hungreb, dead era, hark! He hea, eyes ravenous on her bickybacky and a bannock of barley on Tham the Thatcher’s palm. O wandemess be wondemest and now! Listen- eath to me, when we