"Be Coufal," said the bald Disciple, looking Ott from behind the Schwartz Page, "Cozzl those Lions McLeaned up on Hobart."
"Quit Bueschen me in Nass," reformed the Shanghai Soor, the Holteen is a bunch of Bomms. Leave Maione. Quit Wagner tongue: Your Wards mean Little. You'll change your Toner."
"Forster last time, let Misho you Wynott," replied the Disciple. "Wanselew-ser, never a Price package.
"Audette's some Mayer of your Keating," said the Sage. "The Renicker-bockers from Nork will surely Lucier: