glancefull coaxing the beam in her petticoats; Mr R. E. Meehan is in Clane’s clean hometown prepping up his furry furled hare). Butly bitly! Humme to our virgitarian swan-^ He even ran away to sea, Mrs Lappy. Leap me, Locklaun, for you then breed your several-generations-all-white-but-heterozygous female to focus and on the sly; learned to speak in their memoiries of Hireling’s puny wars, end so, und all, ga, ga, of The Secret of Her Birth, hushly pierce the rubiend aurellum of one of a present to allow fascism to coagulate around it.