| seen your missus in the hall. Like the queenoveire. Arrah, it's | 1 |
| herself that's fine, too, don't be talking! Shirksends? You storyan | 2 |
| Harry chap longa me Harry chap storyan grass woman plelthy | 3 |
| good trout. Shakeshands. Dibble a hayfork's wrong with her only | 4 |
| her lex's salig. Boald Tib does be yawning and smirking cat's | 5 |
| hours on the Pollockses' woolly round tabouretcushion watch- | 6 |
| ing her sewing a dream together, the tailor's daughter, stitch to | 7 |
| her last. Or while waiting for winter to fire the enchantement, | 8 |
| decoying more nesters to fall down the flue. It's allavalonche that | 9 |
| blows nopussy food. If you only were there to explain the mean- | 10 |
| ing, best of men, and talk to her nice of guldenselver. The lips | 11 |
| would moisten once again. As when you drove with her to Fin- | 12 |
| drinny Fair. What with reins here and ribbons there all your | 13 |
| hands were employed so she never knew was she on land or at | 14 |
| sea or swooped through the blue like Airwinger's bride. She | 15 |
| was flirtsome then and she's fluttersome yet. She can second a | 16 |
| song and adores a scandal when the last post's gone by. Fond of | 17 |
| a concertina and pairs passing when she's had her forty winks | 18 |
| for supper after kanekannan and abbely dimpling and is in her | 19 |
| merlin chair assotted, reading her Evening World. To see is | 20 |
| it smarts, full lengths or swaggers. News, news, all the news. | 21 |
| Death, a leopard, kills fellah in Fez. Angry scenes at Stormount. | 22 |
| Stilla Star with her lucky in goingaways. Opportunity fair with | 23 |
| the China floods and we hear these rosy rumours. Ding Tams he | 24 |
| noise about all same Harry chap. She's seeking her way, a chickle | 25 |
| a chuckle, in and out of their serial story, Les Loves of Selskar | 26 |
| et Pervenche, freely adapted to The Novvergin's Viv. There'll | 27 |
| be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her | 28 |
| final tear. Zee End. But that's a world of ways away. Till track | 29 |
| laws time. No silver ash or switches for that one! While flattering | 30 |
| candles flare. Anna Stacey's how are you! Worther waist in the | 31 |
| noblest, says Adams and Sons, the wouldpay actionneers. Her | 32 |
| hair's as brown as ever it was. And wivvy and wavy. Repose you | 33 |
| now! Finn no more! | 34 |
| For, be that samesake sibsubstitute of a hooky salmon, there's | 35 |
| already a big rody ram lad at random on the premises of his | 36 |