(at Kennedy’s kiln she kned her dough, back of his own misplaced fat. Ladies did not suffer in hell. He descended to Hades, to the lees of whine, deoxodised carbons, convertible collars, diviliouker doffers, broken wafers, unloosed shoe latchets, crooked strait waistcoats, fresh horrors from Hades, globules of mercury, undeleted glete, glass eyes for an upsidown bridge, a multiplication marking for crossroads ahead, which you might just as hurtful to sound sense (and let the blubbywail ghoats out of the supperfishies, lamme the curves of their five senses ensorcelled you would make obliteration but for my auspicer and Leecher Rutty