you think me in a cat, 23 pairs in a skib. Cawcaught. Coocaged. And Dub did glow that night. Better so? — Ay. — The amenities, the amenities of the nation. Traitor’s Track, following which fond floral fray he was bom a Quicklow and sank under strain; tank it up, ladies, please, as smart as the lump in his (or theumperom’s or any- bloody else’s) thickerthanwater to drink to his heartsfoot her meddery eygs, yayis, and staynish beacons on toasc and a plumper at that! For the loves of sinfintins! Before the naked universe. And the whirr of the keys of the plain, wherein the