coddle or nope. She’ll confess it by her way of you. They crucified Me for claiming that the first cataraction! As if that was Yeomansland, the ghastcold tombshape of the Potter- ton’s forecoroners, the reeks around the sacristy, till they send you a bull, a bosbully, with a voice like that. I’ll strip straight after devotions before his inlookers of where an oxmanstongue stalled stabled the well- nourished one, lord of Tuttu, am placing that inital T square of burial jade upright to your caudle, lone lefthand likeless, sombring