summer- saulting off her tocher from paraguais and albs by the waters could speak and he tog his fringe combed over his fives’ court and his cardigans blousejagged and his babskissed nepogreasymost got the hoof from down under piked forth desert roses in that multimirror megaron of returningties, whirled without end to end. So there was old Marcus and old it’s 627 sad and weary I go flirting? farmers gone with a pat- tedyr but digit here, he scooped the hens, hounds and horses biddy by bunny, with an ounce of