Text FW 028

seen your missus in the hall. Like the queenoveire. Arrah, it's1
herself that's fine, too, don't be talking! Shirksends? You storyan2
Harry chap longa me Harry chap storyan grass woman plelthy3
good trout. Shakeshands. Dibble a hayfork's wrong with her only4
her lex's salig. Boald Tib does be yawning and smirking cat's5
hours on the Pollockses' woolly round tabouretcushion watch-6
ing her sewing a dream together, the tailor's daughter, stitch to7
her last. Or while waiting for winter to fire the enchantement,8
decoying more nesters to fall down the flue. It's allavalonche that9
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 lips11
would moisten once again. As when you drove with her to Fin-12
drinny Fair. What with reins here and ribbons there all your13
hands were employed so she never knew was she on land or at14
sea or swooped through the blue like Airwinger's bride. She15
was flirtsome then and she's fluttersome yet. She can second a16
song and adores a scandal when the last post's gone by. Fond of17
a concertina and pairs passing when she's had her forty winks18
for supper after kanekannan and abbely dimpling and is in her19
merlin chair assotted, reading her Evening World. To see is20
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 with23
the China floods and we hear these rosy rumours. Ding Tams he24
noise about all same Harry chap. She's seeking her way, a chickle25
a chuckle, in and out of their serial story, Les Loves of Selskar26
et Pervenche, freely adapted to The Novvergin's Viv. There'll27
be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her28
final tear. Zee End. But that's a world of ways away. Till track29
laws time. No silver ash or switches for that one! While flattering30
candles flare. Anna Stacey's how are you! Worther waist in the31
noblest, says Adams and Sons, the wouldpay actionneers. Her32
hair's as brown as ever it was. And wivvy and wavy. Repose you33
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 his36

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