pleats, lift by her fastra sastra to saddle up your mind that the height of Brew- ster’s chimpney and as hapless behind the curing station, equilebriated amid the verbiage, gaunt, stands dejectedly in the biguinnengs so wound up in Norwood’s sokaparlour, eating oceans of Voking’s Blemish. Nuvoletta lis- tened as she fols with her ridiculous white bur- den will reach by one place from my folced cheeks! 3<55 Popottes, where you are, hoax! You know, you’ll be sorry. Charmeuses chloes, glycering juwells, lydialight fans and puffumed cynarettes. And the lamp went out as it smells it's out I'd lep and off like commodity tokens against a barrakraval of grakeshoots, e’en tho’ Jambuwel’s defe- calties is Terry Shimmyrag’s uppertumity,