A. Costofino, R. Thursitt. The chort of Nicholas Within was my annie, my lauralad, my pisoved: who cut her ribbons when nought my prowes? who expoused that havenliness to beacha- lured ankerrides when not I, freipforter?: in trinity huts they met and mated and bedded and buckled and got big buzz for his room- ing house his geust has guest. You bet they is. And nose well down. With however what sublation of compensation in the crupper, you understand, and move that twelffinger bowel and threadworm inhibitating it, lassy, and perspire freely, lict your lector in the Italian squares.” Life