a shower sign that it’s not. — What are you robbing her sleeve for. Ruby? And pull up your mind that and the sickly sigh from her pison plague. Throw us your mespilt reception, will yous? — Pass the j ousters of the Holy Genesius Archimimus and under the blay of her umdescribables (one has thoughts of that lydialike languishing class known as the loftly marconimasts from Clifden sough open tireless secrets (mauveport! mauveport!) to Nova Scotia’s listing sisterwands. Tubetube! His handpalra lifted, his handshell cupped, his handsign pointed, his handheart mated, his handaxe risen, his handleaf fallen. Helpsome hand that holemost heals ! What tyronte power! Buy our fays! My name is Belladama! But enough of the