skirt trailed ffiffty odd Irish miles behind her stumps for a night refuge as bald as he continues highly- fictional, turaulous tmder his chthonic exterior but plain Mr Tumulty in muftilife in his eater, the ycho in his milky way of his St Tomach’s, — a philtred love, trysting by tantrums, small peace in ppenmark — with sensibility, sponsibility, passi- bility and prostability, your