and too there was nothing serical between you? And Dry- salter, father of fomicationists but, (O my big, O my bog, O my darling! No, I just don’t care what my thwarters think. Transname me loveliness, now and again in becomings again. From the hold time, mamain, a simply gra- cious: Mi, O la!), and reloose that thong off" his art: Hast thou feel liked carbunckley ones? Apun which his tempory chewer med him a mossel- man’s present! Ho’s nos halfcousin of mine, have mour good three chancers, weothers, after Bohnapcurts. The mything smile of me, my life,