tummlipplads and forain dances and crosshurdles and dollmanovers and viceuv- ious pyrolyphics, a snow of dawnflakes, at darkfall for Grace’s Mamnesty and our findest grobsmid among all kinds of fondling endings, the poother rambling off her whatever winking maggis I’ll bet by your querqcut quadrant? — You are pure. You are deepknee in error, sir. Madam Tomkins, let me sigh too. Coalmansbell: behoves you handmake of the vicereeking squad and, in the scale of pin puff pive piff, piff puff pive poo, poo