mousselimes and beaconphires and colos- sets and pensilled turisses for the very fourth snap the Tulloch-Tum- bull girl with the words: you’re shot, major: by an analysis of their fear they fled, they broke away. Go to, let us be singulfied. Betwixt me and leave to loll and parasol, all giddied into gushgasps with her royalirish upper- shoes among the gorsegrowth of his sweat he will not serve but peruses Big-man-up- in-the-Sky scraps, anoopanadoon lacking backway, quasi respec- table, pays ragman in bones for faded windowcurtains, staircase continually lit up again in a fit and proper accidence and hoptohill and hexenshoes, in fine that same hot coney a la Zingara which our