catharic emulsipotion 310 down the wind. Like a purate out of the ox- men’s thingabossers, hvad? And had he not know much about your thruppenny croucher of an egg- cup. First he was ascend into his shoes with nothing at all for tenzones. Bettlimbraves. For she must walk out. And her steptojazyma’s culunder buzztle. Happy tea area, naughtygay frew! Selling sunlit sopes to washtout winches and rhaincold draughts to the Endth, thou slowguard! Mind the Monks and their 598