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as far as come back under all my eyes like my sapphire chap-
lets of ringarosary I will say for you to the Allmichael and
solve qui pu while the dovedoves pick my mouthbuds (msch!
msch!) with nurse Madge, my linkingclass girl, she's a fright,
poor old dutch, in her sleeptalking when I paint the measles
on her and mudstuskers to make her a man. We. We. Issy
done that, I confesh! But you'll love her for her hessians
and sickly black stockies, cleryng's jumbles, salvadged from
the wash, isn't it the cat's tonsils! Simply killing, how she
tidies her hair! I call her Sosy because she's sosiety for me
and she says sossy while I say sassy and she says will
you have some more scorns while I say won't you take a few
more schools and she talks about ithel dear while I simply
never talk about athel darling; she's but nice for enticing my
friends and she loves your style considering she breaksin me
shoes for me when I've arch trouble and she would kiss my
white arms for me so gratefully but apart from that she's
terribly nice really, my sister, round the elbow of Erne street
Lower and I'll be strictly forbidden always and true in my own
way and private where I will long long to betrue you along with
one who will so betrue you that not once while I betreu him not
once well he be betray himself. Can't you understand? O bother,
I must tell the trouth! My latest lad's loveliletter I am sore I done
something with. I like him lots coss he never cusses. Pity bon-
hom. Pip pet. I shouldn't say he's pretty but I'm cocksure he's
shy. Why I love taking him out when I unletched his cordon
gate. Ope, Jack, and atem! Obealbe myodorers and he dote so.
He fell for my lips, for my lisp, for my lewd speaker. I felt for
his strength, his manhood, his do you mind? There can be no
candle to hold to it, can there? And, of course, dear professor, I
understand. You can trust me that though I change thy name
though not the letter never while I become engaged with my
first horsepower, masterthief of hearts, I will give your lovely
face of mine away, my boyish bob, not for tons of donkeys, to
my second mate, with the twirlers the engineer of the passio-
flower (O the wicked untruth! whot a tell! that he has bought