Eleven oclock in ts he sky.

    tiring, said Julie. Perhem a break.

    t;breakquot; signal waving ion.

    t by the road.

    tion, tz across an unkno, ttle band of brothers. . .

    You are not a brot get zed away.

    t to s and less timal ions. . .

    Julie looked away.

    My cher said. Mine. Mine. Mine.

    th his head in Julies lap.

    Many sad t to befall me, but t t fello one.

    the drunk, Julie said.

    Yes.

    how did you come by him?

    I anding in t. Edmund. Sap.

    You knehen. Before you signed him up.

    .

    A son of mine, neverther.

    It  agree. But it is o deny someone the making of him. I signed him up.

    Ive noticed.

    o tedly at ther.

    tipped h silver bells from his knapsack.

    to t I ion, or its mate, since I een.

    Sixteen to sixty-five, so says ther.

    t make you loved.

    Loved! Not a matter of love. A matter of Organization.

    All ttle  fool, ttering.  a picture. I t,  perfect fools.

    As ended, said ther.

    And  out-of-doors  it, my ears cut off, said t a notion.  an imagination.

    A certain artistry, said ther. In my ukases.

    Let us luncs early.

    tableclotoasted prahis fashion:

    Quite good.

    Not so bad.

    Is tard?

    In t.

    Somet.

    ?

    Look there.

    Pick it out h your finger.

    Nasty little bugger.

    Pass the prawns.

    And for dessert?

    Fig Newtons.