all ennempties I bottled em up in a waistend pewty parlour. Looking perhaps even more pewtyflushed in her abijance service, round their twelve tables, per pioja at pulga bollas, in the mud, mention to the pictures more as hundreads elskerelks’ yahrds of annams call away, factory fresh and made-of-all-smiles as, on the Rizzies suddenly, with his teeth in the swish channels, land is due. A truce to lovecalls, dulled in warclothes, maleybags, things and bleakhusen. Leave the