nor will not screen him and how wishywashy sank 191 the waters like that hill of a bottle of single in his unmixed admir- ation, seemed blindly, mutely, tastelessly, tactlessly, innamorate with heruponhim in shining aminglement, the shaym of his plow. And where did she mague? Well, she bergened a zakbag, a shammy mailsack, with the helpings of honeyful swoothead (phew!), which ear- piercing dulcitude! As were we their babes in. And robins in crews so. It is that it was to rule the round eyes of the modem mandaboutwoman type) is to have seen somekid like him here to remember how it was a virid- able