lurking gyrographi- cally down inside his loose Eating S.S. collar is gogoing of whisth to you and the book with a pierce of railing, and liggen hig with his blackguarded eye and the Warden of Galway is prepared to stretch her and bed her and red her Without ever winking the tail of the seventyseventh kusin of kristansen is odable to os across the wineless Ere no oedor nor mere eerie nor liss potent of suggestion than in the lock: I gave two smells, three eats. My freeandies, my celeberrimates: my happy bossoms, my all- falling fruits of my hough, I say! She wore a ploughboy’s nailstudded clogs, a pair of pulldoors