2nd draft, October-November 1925, III§4T draft level 1

MS British Library 47482a 55-59 Draft details

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How did he bank it up, |1swank it up, the whaler in the punt,1| a guinea by a groat, his index on the balance and such wealth into the bargain? Humbly to fall and cheaply to rise, exposition of failures. First for a change of a seven days' licence he wandered out of his farmer's health and |1so1| lost his early parishlife. Then, occidentally |1of a suddom,1| six junelooking |1flamers flamefaces1| straggled wild out of their turns through his
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parsonfired wicket, showing all shapes of striplings in sleepless tights. Promptly whomafter in undated times, very properly a dozen generations anterior to themselves, a main chanced to burst and misflooded his fortunes, wrothing foulplay over his fives' court and his fine poultryyard wherein were spared a just two of a feather in wading room only. Next, upon due reflotation, up started 4 hurricane gales to smithereen his plateglass |1walls housewalls1| &
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the slate accounts his keeper was cooking. Then came three boy buglers who |1counterswindled counterbezzled1| and crossburgled him. Later on in the same evening two hussyites absconded through a breach in his bylaws and left him, the infidels, to pay himself off in kind remembrances. Till, ultimatelim, fell the crowning barleystraw, when an explosium of his distilleries deafandumped all his dry goods down to his most favoured sinflute, and dropped him, what remains of a heptarch, weeping worrybound on his bankrump.

Pepep. Pay bearer, sure and sorry, at foot of
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ohoho honest policiest. O never again swore on him Lloyd's, not for beaten wheat. |1Not after sir Joe Meade's father.1| They know him, the covenanter, by rote at least for a chameleon at least, in his true falseheaven colours, from ultraviolent to subred tissues. That's his last tryon to march through his grand tryomphal arch. His reignbolt's shot. Never again! How do you like that, Mista Chimepiece? You got nice yum premyums. Praypaid my promishles.

Agreed he was chogfulled of foxholed cunningmesses but who was the |1firmest firmost1| of the firm? After all, what followed for apprentice'sake? Jeebies,
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ugh, kek, ptah, that was an ill man. Jawboose, puddigood, that is for true one sweetish mand. But, Jumbluffer, bagdad, sir, that yond would be for a once over our all hallowed christmastype easteredmanx. |1Fourth position. |aView from horizon.a| Twomesee. Male and female unmask we them.1| Who now |1breathes broothes1| down. |1Nown!1| The nape of his nameshielder's neck. |1Hek!1| After having done all he dared. |1Air!1| Worked out to the pinch of an inch. |1Hinz!1| While the queanby he staggerhorned blesses her bliss for to feel her funnyman's functions rumbling.